Wishmaster: Exodus
by Kogamitsu
Summary: Deeply religious high school student Angelika Petrescu leads life that makes Carrie White seem a fortunate soul. She accidently awakens the Djinn, who enters her life and conveniently takes down her bullies. Will she defeat him, or does she even want to?
1. Prologue

Wishmaster: Exodus

Wishmaster © Live Film and Mediaworks, Inc.

Wishmaster II: Evil Never Dies © Artisan International, Inc.

Story © Kogamitsu (that's me)

Prologue

A black sun rose slowly but certainly on the blood red sky, shedding dark light into this world of eternal autumn where no mortal had ever set a foot in. A flock of red-eyed ravens occupied the branches of a willow tree that had never sprouted leaves nor seen a young couple cuddling at its roots. At the distance, just on top of a rocky cliff, located a castle so great it would lead to believe that gods themselves had once built it. The throne of the castle was made of the dearest materials of all worlds and it stood silently at its place, waiting for a king to appear and claim it for its own.

Many had tried, few had returned from the task they have to fulfil before they would have the right to sit on the throne a rule over this dimension and what would lie beyond it. One of those had cheated death thrice, earning an additional title of The Undying from the Council that held its watchful eye over the world in the lack of a king. He had returned from his task three times, unsuccessful but alive, and after the third time he had lost his interest in such lowly heights. Instead he developed an interest in honing his own might, studying magical arts to rise above the rest of his kind.

Another ancient, dusty book lay open before his red eyes when he heard the door of his study open and a few armed guards entering in. Their leader stepped forward, bowing slightly. "Thousand and one apologies, mighty Undying one," he swiftly declared. "The Council sent us to summon you."

Involuntarily The Undying closed his book and followed the guards over to the castle and its throne hall where the Council awaited. He briefly knelt to greet them, to avoid any further punishments for impudence. The elder of the Council stood up from his cosy seat to emphasize his superiority, even though he wouldn't challenge The Undying even in his dreams; he had honed his skills to perfection and theoretically presented grave threat to the Council, but they were too proud to admit it.

"The Council summoned me?"

"Yes, Undying one. Our last hope to fulfil the demanding task has been slaughtered, leaving the position open yet once more. We are running slim of volunteering disciples, in fact, they have all refused to even try and free our race from this hell. That is why, o' Undying one, we have called upon you today."

The elder looked him straight in his eyes. "We'll send you, once more, out to fight for us."

"I refuse."

It was blunt. Simple, direct. A manifestation of the free will their race had been granted as they were created from smokeless fire. The Council mumbled in disbelief; was someone really disobeying them?

"Know, Undying one, despite your title you can be destroyed. This was not a request, it was an order."

"I will not clean up the mess the fools have made themselves. Send someone else."

"Oh? What is this mess you so cringe at?"

The Undying lifted his hands in the air, using his newly learned powers to create an illusion, a peek into the world of mortals. The Council gasped, some in delight of the sight of his might, some in fear as they realized the powers he had gained. The illusion portrayed men with great swords, variety of firearms and skulls of their race decorating their chambers. "The number of humans that are aware of us has grown massively," The Undying declared. "They have captured us, studied us and found out ways to harm us, even instantly destroy us. This is because those who you have sent have been careless; they have exposed their true nature to everyone and attracted unwanted attention. This one particular group has proven to be more fatal than any other kind of hunter we have faced before. They call themselves Crusaders. They have enhanced their troops to acquire mages, some of whom are just slightly weaker than us, granted we could act magically at will, not only when wished to do so."

The illusion disappeared. "The moral of the story is, o' great Council, is that you have forgotten that we are no different from any other hellish or celestial being. We, too, have to adhere to the code of masquerade like the others. Instead, we have been juggling dumbsters and outran the 8:15 from Sacramento, and we have got what we asked for. We have got ourselves into the situation where our magic can no longer aid us or science save us. Their tiny 21st century brains have actually been put to decent use."

The elder let out a heavy sigh and sat back down. An uneasy silence landed on the whole hall, even armed guards swept the floors with their eyes in shame. But The Undying didn't seem affected. He never was. "Wise Undying one," a female Council member pleaded. "The Council admits their flaw regarding this. We have not instructed our disciples well, and their deaths are on our conscious. Now we turn to you, for you seem to have the most experience and knowledge about our problem."

"Your problem is, great Council, is that none of you have actually been put on the field. You do not know what lies beyond the gateway the Persian sorcerer bound us with. Yes, I do have an answer, if you wish to hear it."

The excitement was tangible – just the way he liked it. He would have them begging before the sun would go down again. "I trust the great Council remembers the minor incident some 400 years ago?"

"Yes, your son followed through the gateway when we sent another unfortunate disciple."

"For decades I thought I had lost my son forever, but he returned and with him, he brought something I never would have imagined to see. He had humbled himself and studied in the Land of the Rising Sun under human teachers, the proud and the invisible, and mastered skills that humans refer today as 'martial arts'. My son re-created their weapons in our dimension and upkeeps his skills even today. My point is, great Council, it is time we took advantage of it and turned the humans' arts against them."

"Are you suggesting to send your son? He hasn't been instructed in the ways of conquering."

"He doesn't need to. I promise to teach him everything he needs to. He will be ready before the day is out."

The Undying bowed slightly and turned to leave, only to be stopped on his tracks by the elder. "We sincerely hope your plan isn't just a waste of time," he growled, envious of his ingeniousness. "For if we find that your son fails like everyone else, you shall both be beheaded."

The Undying let out an unimpressed 'hmph'. If an ancient sorcerer, blowing his own brains out with a revolver and getting a bullet in his heart couldn't stop him, hardly could the Council either. "The worst you can offer is death, Council," he said. "And with that I can cope with."


	2. The Awakening

Wishmaster: Exodus

Wishmaster © Live Film and Mediaworks, Inc.

Wishmaster II: Evil Never Dies © Artisan International, Inc.

Story © Kogamitsu (that's me)

The Awakening

Angelika Petrescu, barely 18, always walked with hunched shoulders and her long, black hair on her face. Many of the other students that walked the same corridor of the high school shoved her around on purpose, laughing at this timid, cringing mouse who dared not raise a finger to defend herself. She never wore make-up, nor any other jewellery than a brass cross that hung from her neck. Her deep religiousness hardly helped her situation; she made Carrie White look like the high school celebrity girl.

Leaving the dormitory area, Angelika walked slowly among the rest of the same class to the nearby museum where a special event of Egyptian and Persian artefacts was presented. Their history teacher, who looked like he belonged to the collection, had decided to hold his lesson there since their book was covering the same area. The museum guide was your average tour guide barbie with fake nails and I-wanted-to-be-a-supermodel-smile. They stopped by a three-meter statue and the guide did her damnedest to sound like she was really interested. "And this is the statue, carved in the likeness of Zoroastrian god, Ahura Mazda, is over 3000 years old. It's one of the very few statues made after converting to Islam, which made these gods outlaws."

Angelika raised her head just enough to see the enormous statue fully. It puzzled her how ancient people could make pictures and statues of their gods; had they seen them? How did they know what they looked like?

She turned her head down immediately as she noted her classmate coming towards her. She had no pleasant memories of this girl, but she knew it was too late to run or hide. "Nice statue, eh?" she asked.

"S... sure is..." Angelika muttered.

"Really? Why don't you take a closer look at it?" the girl grabbed skinny Angelika and shoved her at the statue. She banged heavily towards the statue, falling on the ground with it. The sharp pieces of stone that came off the statue cut into her hands as she tried to get up. The whole class burst out in loud laughter, some genuine, some fake, but the teacher and the tour guide barbie gave a look that was something in between anger for breaking the priceless statue and worry if she hurt herself.

Angelika gasped in shock as she realized that the beautiful statue was now broken, but soon her eyes caught something that didn't belong to the picture. On the floor, among the broken pieces, lay a stunningly beautiful gemstone – a fire-red opal, the size of her own palm. Hesitantly, she picked it up from the ground to have a better look. The tour guide barbie knelt next to her to see what she had found.

"Wow... where did you find that?" the barbie asked, genuinely excited for change.

"It... it was inside the statue..." Angelika replied. The barbie took the gemstone from her and looked at it. "Oh, it's covered all over in your blood, sweetheart," she declared. "Come, I'll get you first aid. And forget that statue, I think your discovery made up for it."

Angelika gave a slight, timid smile and followed the barbie into a back room while the teacher began berating the whole class that had partly disappeared into various places during the incident.

After the last lesson and bullying, Angelika paid a quick visit to a nearby grocery store. Most other students dined at the high school cafeteria in the middle of the campus, the richest went out downtown to proper restaurants and cafés, but Angelika shunned the presence of other students. She considered herself a decent cook and if she was lucky, there might be something nice on the television tonight. And even if there wasn't, she would just read some nice book.

That was how her mind worked; she tried to find anything positive about not having friends. She could read books, cook whatever she wanted, follow some TV series that was on only when other people went out... quite often, however, she would realize she wasn't kidding anyone. She was just sad, lonely, miserable, insignificant little creature with no life to call her own. Every night before going to bed she would kneel and pray, but eventually she would just end up crying with nothing else on her heart than the wish to die. She would end her life if she wasn't so scared of what lies after death.

The following night was littered with nightmares.

Angelika thought she had seen the Hell itself; flames, smoke, screams. Devious creature staring at her among the flames, and some unfortunate, decapitated soul burning until nothing would be left. The creature's black claws reached towards Angelika, and a voice like the roar of thunder, growling from everywhere, cursed, "You... woke... me!"

She let out a distressed scream as she sprung up from her bed. Angelika cried like the little girl she was, though one nightmare had just ended, another one had just begun.


	3. Meet the Beast

Wishmaster: Exodus

Wishmaster © Live Film and Mediaworks, Inc.

Wishmaster II: Evil Never Dies © Artisan International, Inc.

Story © Kogamitsu (that's me)

Meet the Beast

New dawn. Angelika was always the first one up in the whole campus. She enjoyed the silence with her morning tea and cereal in her cramped dorm kitchen that served her faithfully. She was browsing through her history book for the pop quiz that the teacher had promised to hold that day. That and tiredness were nearly enough to keep the nightmare she saw away from her thoughts. And after a brisk walk to the class she wouldn't even be tired anymore. Yes, this might still become a decent day. One could always hope.

Angelika usually sat somewhere in the middle of the classroom. All her bullies occupied the back seats without exception, and the ones in the front were usually teachers' pets. Even the geeks were accustomed to making fun of her. That's how low she was. The teachers had noticed it but there was very little they could – or would – do about it.

The history teacher that looked a bit like young, blonde Sean Connery stepped into the classroom. "Attention, class," he said. "I hope you remembered to study for the pop quiz today, otherwise some of you are in danger of failing this course... Quiet, the lot of you! Also, we got a new student to our school this morning, as a last-second applicant. He should be arriving any minute from the headmaster's office... ah, there he is."

A young man, dressed in black jeans, black long-sleeve t-shirt and black trenchcoat appeared at the door. Once he removed his black sunglasses, his Asian features came obvious; he had very Japanese eyes, cheeks and nose and a long, black hair in a ponytail, but his very pale complexion didn't seem to fit to the whole picture. Also, he appeared exceptionally tall for being Asian. His height must have neared 190cm.

"Mr. Takeda?" the teacher asked him to enter the class. "This is Mr. Toshiro Takeda. He will be attending the course with you, and you're bound to see him on other courses as well. Just pick any seat, Takeda, and we can carry on. You'll take part of the pop quiz too but since you haven't had the chance to read, the score won't matter..."

Toshiro's eyes quickly swept through the class. There were only few empty seats; one in the back, near the high school divas who seemed to welcome the idea of him sitting with them, one in the front where the geeks shivered in fear as he towered over them, and one in the middle – right next to Angelika, who hardly had had the courage to even look at the newcomer. Toshiro dropped his backbag from his shoulder and sat down at the seat in the middle, placing the bag in between him and Angelika, who seemed to have petrified by her timidness. Did he really have to take the seat next to her?

"Alright people, grab your pens and erasers, otherwise the desks must be empty. Write your answers on the answer sheet and leave the question sheet unmarked. Good luck, people."

When the bell rang to announce the break and after the common outburst of students, Angelika was beginning to drag herself over to the next lesson when Toshiro grabbed her shoulder: "Excuse me, miss..."

Angelika gasped, dropping her bag. "I apologize, I didn't intend to frighten you," Toshiro swiftly said. Still keeping her head down, Angelika turned and found herself taken aback by the sudden niceness that was pointed towards her. Toshiro picked up her worn, once-white backbag and handed it over: "I was wondering if I may ask for your assistance."

"Y... yes?" she managed to stutter.

"I am new to this world of yours, and I may come across some difficulties in finding my way around. Perhaps, should we happen to share a lesson, you could guide me to the right door?"

"I... I guess..." Angelika replied. "Wh... what have you got next...?"

"Mathematics, says the timetable."

"I... I have it, too. J-just follow me..."

"With pleasure."

Halfway through to the classroom, Angelika saw the corridor occupied with unpleasant faces. She summoned all her courage she could just to walk through, but there wasn't much to begin with. Squeezing her bag to her body, she pressed her head down the closer she was to them. She knew, any moment now, this nice, new student would know the truth of her situation and why there always was an empty seat next to her. Sure enough, one of the loud-mouthed guys couldn't stay quiet: "Hey, er, what's-your-face, Toshiro? Come here, don't hang around with that looser!"

Toshiro didn't flinch. It was as if he hadn't heard it at all. Angelika led him to the door of the classroom as she had promised, but once there, she turned to him. "L-listen..." she said, hardly loud enough for him to hear. "I... I think you s-should keep your d-d-distance... If you h-hang around with me, you too will e-end up like m-me..."

"I don't fear them," Toshiro replied casually. Angelika said no more, just muttered something under her breath that sounded like "Don't do this to yourself," and ran outside. Toshiro was left staring after her. He could tell by the way she ran she sure wasn't an athlete, but if everyone treated her like the loud-mouths at that corridor, sports classes must've been hell to her.

Toshiro was able to smell the loud-mouthed kid approaching him way before he appeared from around the corner. He turned to look; the kid had a face like a bullet and each detail of him told that he considered himself one of the kingpins. He enjoyed making people like Angelika miserable, just to feel better about themselves and assure themselves that no one would ever stump them on the ground.

Angelika's heart raced. She wasn't accustomed to running at all, but she had to do it in order to help the newcomer. Sitting down on the school bench to catch her breath, she hoped no one would notice her there. But as time passed, she heard too-familiar sounds from around the corner, where people usually went for sneaky smokes. But the tone of the voices were different, not even random laughters occurred. Carefully Angelika sneaked closer to hear what they were on about.

"Terrible, isn't it. He had just graduated from here, I knew him," one of the smoky-sounding voices said. "He just got the job as the appraiser in the museum."

"So what exactly happened?" another voice inquired.

"No one knows, really... there was a big fire last night, that seemed to have spontaneously exploded. It burnt everything, even if there were any clues. They had hard time telling that he actually died of decapitation..."

Angelika gasped; the incident they talked about, it was the same incident she saw in her dream. She sat back down at the bench, trying to clear her thoughts. What did this all mean? Was she a psychic or was it just a strange coincidence? Or maybe there was some psychopathic killer on the move, burning stuff to ground...

To ground! Getting stumped on the ground like a burnt cigarette! Illusions filled Angelika's mind once more, a man literally dissolving into the ground he was getting stumped on. Screams of agony echoed everywhere, all too real to be just a figment of her imagination. Though as suddenly as the illusion had appeared, it disappeared just as quickly, leaving no other trace after it but panicked Angelika. She held her head and sobbed – what was happening to her? Was she getting insane or was she indeed a psychic?

Her string of thoughts were cut short by the break bell that called everyone in for the lessons. Hurrying up before the people of the smoking corner would reach her, she hastily walked indoors. As she appeared, Toshiro gave her a strange smile. As if he knew something she didn't, and wanted her to be aware of it. Again, he occupied the seat next to her in the beginning of the lesson while the teacher called out for names. It was soon when it occurred that the loud-mouth, Axel Carper, had gone missing. Not even his usual gang knew of his whereabouts, which raised quite a few eyebrows among the rest of the class. But Toshiro sat, unaffected, picking a piece of dirt from under his nail and tossing it on the floor.

After her lessons Angelika headed for her dorm room, only to find Toshiro leaning to her door. He turned to look at her, looking a lot more friendly without the bizarre smile on his face. "Your lessons for the day are over, right?" he asked, taking Angelika's backbag from her and hung it on his shoulder. "Care to join me in the cafeteria?"

"I... I...I don't really go there..." Angelika said quietly.

"How so?"

"Uh... p-people don't r-really... really like me... T-they c-c... call me names..."

Toshiro laid his hand over her shoulder. "It will be alright," he said. "I won't call you names. I like you. Come with me."

Angelika looked him in the eyes, for the first time, and let him lead her to the cafeteria where she had never had the courage to go to before.


	4. Dealing with the Demon

Wishmaster: Exodus

Wishmaster © Live Film and Mediaworks, Inc.

Wishmaster II: Evil Never Dies © Artisan International, Inc.

Story © Kogamitsu (that's me)

WARNING: This is where the M-rating truly steps in! You've been warned!

Dealing with the demon

The looks from other students would have made Angelika stop at her tracks as she realized she was far from welcome. Toshiro found a good spot at a corner table where he brought them a coffee and a tea. They were talking casually about random stuff, ignoring the hostile looks from neighbouring tables, when it were the divas that couldn't keep a lid on. When they couldn't get an eye contact to Toshiro they tried the louder option.

"Hey, Toshirooo-o, what are you doing, sitting there with that idiot?" yelled Charity Bow, the high-class diva. "Come here, hang around with us."

Toshiro didn't flinch.

"Hey, did you hear me? Hanging around with idiots makes you an idiot!"

Angelika pressed her head down, wanting to hide somewhere like a mouse she was. A smile crept on Toshiro's lips; apparently the storyline began to clear to him, and he was amused by this play he was witnessing. But Angelika was far from amused. She shifted herself uneasily, clearly preparing to take off, but Toshiro laid his hand on hers to make her stay. "You haven't finished your tea yet," he said. "And I can get you another one if you wish."

"N-no thank you..." Angelika stuttered. "M-maybe you really s-shouldn't hang around with m-me..."

"Why? What could they do?"

"T-t-they can make your l-life a living H-hell."

Toshiro laughed. Though a bit theatrical, evil laughter, it was sincere. After containing himself again, he took a deep breath and shook his head in disbelief. Or was it pity? Angelika couldn't tell. Oh, but God bless him and his carefree attitude, maybe he is the kind who takes the piss out of bullies in spite of being oppressed. She would've given anything to become like him.

"You don't like it here?" he asked.

"No, not really," she replied, finally managing to produce a sentence without stuttering. A moment of silence landed on the two of them, until Angelika suddenly looked up and, had Toshiro not actually seen the cafeteria door open and close, it would've seemed she had teleported away. It didn't take him too long to realize why, as the whole diva squad infiltrated their table. The smell of cheap perfumes and obnoxiousness filled Toshiro's nose; it was revolting. It reminded him of all the reasons he hated the humans: their ignorance and downright impudence marred the name of them all, even the innocent and humble ones'. Heck, all his kind hated humans for what they had done to them.

Charity leaned back, pushing her chest out as much as she could and toyed with her dyed, dark brown hair. "Soo..." she purred. "What brings our oriental hunk into England, hmm?"

Seeing his chance, Toshiro took the full advantage.

"Certain dark-haired beauty," he softly replied, keeping his description vague enough. Charity nearly burst in veniality and self-flatter, being absolutely sure he had referred to her; "Why, you certainly don't waste time, do you?"

"Don't waste your time or time will waste you," Toshiro whispered to her. "My dear queen Jezebel, what might you wish me to do for you?"

Charity giggled like a little girl, where the rest of the divas let out a little more forced laughter, stained by jealousy. The break bell interrupted their theatrical moment. Charity stood up, winked at him and said: "Tonight, my dorm room... we'll have time we never forget."

The divas left the cafeteria for class. Toshiro's lips curved to a devious smile, as he mumbled, "As you wish," under his breath, with a voice that couldn't be of the mortal world. As he, too, found himself without a purpose there, he stood up to leave as he nearly fell over to an object that was lying on the floor. An old, worn, formerly white backpack. Angelika's school bag. She had left in such a hurry she had forgotten all about it. Toshiro picked it up and took it with him to the dorm room that was appointed to him that very morning. He could easily use it to lure Angelika out to him.

It was only hours later when Angelika realized she was missing her backpack. She had just had her tea and was beginning to do her homework when half of her books had gone AWOL. After searching her whole dorm room, she finally realized that Toshiro had it and in order to get it back, she would have to pay him a visit. Leaving her safe haven at evening hours was risky for her since a lot of nasty people would be on the move, constantly. She was just about the grab the handle of her door when it hit again – the illusions, the tormenting premonitions of hell and agony.

Charity had just slipped into her skimpiest outfit and reddest lipstick when knocking echoed from her door. Rushing to open it, she hardly could contain her excitement; the best-looking guy in at least hundred-mile radius was there, and getting him on her leash would give her even more credit than anything she had done so far. Toshiro was the only guy she didn't have in her fingertips, but it would change very soon...

She opened the door and let Toshiro in. He had ditched his trenchcoat somewhere, and the rather tight long-sleeve shirt gave out his well-built muscles. Yes, indeed, he was a perfect catch... she just hoped he wouldn't feel any unnecessary sympathies for that pathetic wretch, Angelika or what's-her-face. "Do come in," she purred, doing her damnedest to appeal to him. Toshiro, his face still hiding whatever might be running through his mind, walked past her and allowed her to close the door behind him. Charity wrapped her arms around his neck. "You know, you truly are the best-looking man in this campus," she smiled, giving her usual lines when making new conquers. "I can see we're clearly meant to be."

Playing along, Toshiro smirked and ran his finger along her excessively powdered cheek. Charity let out a pleased sigh; "Ah... how I wish I could watch your face forever."

The devilish grin appeared on his face once again. "As you wish," he said with a voice like the roar of thunder. Charity screamed and grabbed her head; like screaming pop-up flashes the images of his real face infiltrated her mind. She fell on ground, her eyes hurting of the sight of the demon. She was left in peace granted she closed her eyes, but once opened the images flooded.

The demon laughed, finally in his true form. As Charity wandered around, screaming and gasping, panicking without any sign of sanity. She fell on her knees before the demon, begging him to make it stop, thus amusing him even further. "I can only grant you one wish, mortal," he replied, his blood red eyes gazing the miserable being in front of him. "Cut off your eyes, if you really want to make it cease."

Angelika saw it all happen. The demon, the screaming illusions, the choking panic that could drive the sanest of people into asylums in an instant. She saw Charity through the demon's eyes, reaching for her nail scissors and plunging them into her eyes. Her blood stained her make-up desk and her dress as she fell off once more to the ground, dead as stone, the scissors sticking out from her eyes. Angelika collapsed on the floor in tears, for the first time feeling sympathy towards her bully. Once more, the devious, commanding voice echoed: "You woke me! Fulfil the Prophecy!"

Rushing to the hallway where Charity's dorm room located, Angelika managed to see the paramedics carry out her body in a plastic sack. A few other students, mainly the rest of the divas stood there also, shocked about the incident. Not being able to bear the situation a second longer, Angelika ran away from the scene.

Once she had calmed down, Angelika got herself together and headed for the reception table of the dormitory. Mira Charles, Charity's best friend, sat at her post at the reception table leaning hard on her hands. At first she didn't even see Angelika, and even after noticing her she wasn't too happy. "Oh, it's you..." she sighed. "What do you want?"

"W-where is t-Toshiro Takeda's dorm room?" asked Angelika.

Mira sighed and took a swift look at the computer. "East wing, hall six – room 66," she said, with a minor laughter. "Hehe... 6-66. The devil's room."

Though the laughter quickly changed to tears. "You believe in God, don't you, Angelika?" she sobbed. "Why does He let so terrible things happen to innocent people but lets the evil off effortlessly?"

The end of her sentence was consumed by hysterical crying. Angelika couldn't answer. She didn't know, and had pondered it herself many times and found no reasonable answer. She just thanked Mira quietly for the information and headed towards this so-called devil's room.


	5. To the Devil's Lair

Wishmaster: Exodus

Wishmaster © Live Film and Mediaworks, Inc.

Wishmaster II: Evil Never Dies © Artisan International, Inc.

Story © Kogamitsu (that's me)

To the Devil's Lair

Hall number six was usually inhabited by problematic students, those who acted like they were still 10 or 12-year-old kids. It was unfortunate to get the devil's room, since it being in the middle of the area, it was considered the room 1408 (1) of the campus. Toshiro wasn't too bothered, however. Heck, his father had _created _the bloody 1408. The hotel owner had wished for a good tourist attraction. Stupid mortal... Be careful what you wish for.

Angelika had shunned the hall six for her life. Those people were the ones giving her the worst treatment; her being good in arts and poetry, after every English and Arts lessons she had to find her scattered property from all around the campus – usually from the nearest toilet, though. These were the guys that had torn her jacket apart when she had won the national poetry competition and given her a beat-up when she got £300 prize money from the nature art competition. For her to enter this realm was a death-wish. All she could do was to hope no one would be around.

The hope proved futile; before she even noticed she was pushed down on the ground. "Well, well, look who crawled out from the telly!" snorted a voice too familiar. "The fuzz-haired wannabe Sadako herself (2)! Someone oughta throw you back to your well, bitch."

"The nearest well is a bit of a walk away, maybe a toilet bowl will do?" another voice suggested. Looking up, Angelika saw six early-puberty boys in grown-up bodies surrounding her. "Whaaat, that far?" the first lad gave his fake disappointment. "Ah, well, I suppose the toilet will have to do. Let's go then!"

They grabbed Angelika and started to drag her along the hallway. Despite her loud cries for help, no one came. No one bothered. The leader of the gang did, however, get enough of it, and he belted her hard on her face to silence her. Angelika tried to free herself but offered no challenge to them at all. They knew no one would dare to stop them, not even some random teacher wandering around the dormitory area. They knew victory was theirs.

What they didn't know that a pair of blood-red eyes observed them at a distance.

Just as the leader of the gang grabbed the handle of the restroom, something in the air changed so drastically even they noted it. Even Angelika raised her head to look around. What was this strange feeling that engulfed them all? Like deep breaths, humming around and making the floor tremble under them. No, the floor was still; it was THEY who trembled in fear.

Toshiro approached with long, rapid steps. When he was near enough, he grabbed Angelika around her waist with one hand as he threw a punch at one of the lads who were holding her. She would've collapsed on the floor if Toshiro hadn't been holding her. The other lad advanced slightly but was thrown back by Toshiro's swift blade punch in his throat. Releasing Angelika, he carefully pushed her behind him and told her to stay back.

Two down, four to go. It had certainly been a while since Toshiro had been engaged in a real fight. He hoped the last four hundred years hadn't made him too rusty, though, to be perfectly honest, these thugs would go down without any special sort of training. Still, it was a good chance to revive his memory of techniques; if his father was right – which Toshiro wouldn't question – he would need every ounce of physical strength he was granted.

The leader sent the three remaining lads on him at the same time. Toshiro didn't flinch, he just grabbed the first one by his arm and sent him flying through the air, conveniently to the same pile where the two first knock-outs landed. The second one tried getting him on a choke hold, but was dismissed with an elbow blow to the guts. Toshiro turned around, grabbed him hard on his collar and hopped down on the floor, pulling him down – only to kick him into the same pile with the momentum.

The last thug hesitated. He turned to the leader with an "All yours, buddy," and ran away as fast as his little legs carried him. Toshiro leapt up from the ground effortlessly, turning to look at the leader who had cowardly kept his distance from the fight. He allowed the real red colour of his eyes shine through the human mask he wore. Summoning up whatever courage was left, the leader lunged at Toshiro, who stopped him mid-air and threw him around the corner where Angelika wouldn't see them. Once sure of the privacy, Toshiro grabbed the leader by his throat and single-handedly lifted him in the air. The leader struggled, but in vain; the Djinn's hold was made of steel.

"Now, what shall I do with you, mortal?" Toshiro growled with the voice that belonged to his real form. "Perhaps I should grant you the chance to beg for mercy, hmm? Get started."

The leader kicked him in the guts, causing no reaction from Toshiro. As if he hadn't even felt the kick. He had, alright – he tightened his hold around the leader's throat. The leader groaned and struggled. "Blow me!" he cried out, like a proper thug should. Toshiro grinned and released his hold – but the leader kept floating mid-air. He had a split second of time to realize it wasn't a normal human being he was facing, before Toshiro blew gently at his general direction. This small gust of wind sent the leader flying through the air right towards the windows of the hall. The windows shattered as he smashed through them and into the rose bushes that located directly beneath them. Toshiro grinned – another flawless victory, another wish granted, another soul collected. Brilliant.

He turned around to see Angelika peek sheepishly around the corner. Hiding his red eyes in blue again, Toshiro came to her. "Are you all right?" he asked. Angelika couldn't get a word out of herself; he was shaking and shedding tears, not being able to believe how close she had been to getting drowned. Her legs couldn't carry her any more, her nose was bleeding and her cheek felt as if it was on fire. The only thing that stopped her from collapsing on the floor was Toshiro, who had grabbed a hold around her. "Come, let's get you back together again," he said and walked her to his dorm room.

Eventually Angelika calmed down. She was sitting on Toshiro's bed holding a bag of ice on her face as Toshiro brought her a fresh cup of tea. He returned to the only open window in his dorm to finish smoking his cigarette to drive the excess Djinn's equivalent of adrenaline out of his blood. It had been too long since his previous, real battle. He would have to get himself through his paces before facing anything more threatening that those thugs. These strange incidents would get the Crusaders snooping around like Ross Noble leaving the stage (3) – eventually.

But not yet. Not tonight. His waker is in his grasp, now is the time to strike.

Angelika sobbed. She was glad of the help she had got, but she wondered how weak and miserable she must seem in Toshiro's eyes. It would all be a lot better if she didn't exist. Doing her damnedest to re-calm herself, she sighed and took a sip of her tea. Toshiro exhaled rest of the cigarette out from the window before closing it. As he approached Angelika he noted a "No Smoking" sign on the wall. Angelika too, was looking at it. "Oops," Toshiro said casually and turned the sign to face the wall. A minor burst of laughter escaped Angelika, making the cheek hurt even more. Toshiro sat down next to her. "Let's see what this looks like," he said while removing the half-melted bag of ice from her cheek. Something told him he would be needing the same bag sooner or later himself. Angelika's cheek wasn't as swollen as it was before the ice and her nose had stopped bleeding, but the punch would definitely leave a bruise.

Toshiro gently ran his finger on her cheek. Angelika was taken aback by such sudden act of affection, and jumped slightly. She felt blood rushing to her cheeks and had to turn her face away from him. Toshiro laid his finger under her chin and carefully – yet determinately – turned her head to look at him. "What are you afraid of?" he asked. "I won't hurt you."

He gave her the friendliest smile he could. Angelika smiled at him, too. Maybe... maybe she really had found a friend. Praise be to Lord if she had. Toshiro was strong, good-looking and nice, he could make her heart beat again. On the downside, he smoked, but no one's perfect. Angelika felt a strange feeling engulfing her heart – a strange, warm feeling. Was it love? She wouldn't know, never had she felt it before.

"I... I should be going..." she muttered. "I've already b-bothered you enough."

"Are you sure you will be all right?" Toshiro asked. "Is there anything else I could do for you?"

"N...no, not really... I only h-hope I can get some s-sleep t-tonight..."

As Angelika turned her back to him, Toshiro grinned. She bent to grab her backpack from the corner, right next to Toshiro's heavy metal version of one when the room began to spin around her. It didn't stop, even after she straightened up. She leaned hard on the wall and only a moment later she would've collapsed on the floor had Toshiro not being behind her, catching her as she fell. He lifted her up in his arms and carried her to his bed, quite literally tucking her in. He laid the blanket on her and sat next to her, just for a brief moment, he told himself. The scent that lingered from Angelika was somewhat intoxicating; he could detect no signs of veniality, arrogance nor greed, nothing that the others has reeked of. She smelt of purity and innocence, and at the same time of depression and grievance. Toshiro wasn't surprised, the way she was treated.

Now, he had squeezed first wish out of three from his waker, but the situation bothered him. It was clear a girl like Angelika had not much left to ask for, a death wish if anything. That was one wish Toshiro didn't want to hear, not only he would fail his mission but he actually didn't want to kill her, at least not before all those thugs and divas that were so easily fooled. Maybe not even then.

Slightly worried about his course of thoughts, Toshiro left Angelika safe and sound in his dorm room and left the campus area to prepare himself for what would await him in the future.

NOTES:

(1) 1408 is a Stephen King novel/movie about a cursed hotel room.

(2) He refers to the Japanese horror movie "Ringu"

(3) Comedian Ross Noble is known to exceed the time limit of his shows.

Special thank you for evildolly for the kind reviews. No, I don't have a beta... I'm not even sure what it is blush Thank you for reviews, very, very much!


	6. The Dialogue

Wishmaster: Exodus

Wishmaster © Live Film and Mediaworks, Inc.

Wishmaster II: Evil Never Dies © Artisan International, Inc.

Story © Kogamitsu (that's me)

The Dialogue

Three AM. Devil's midnight. Full moon. The only time the young, inexperienced Djinn could contact his kind for advice. There was a nice cliff that overlooked the sleeping city, just through a dense forest. It would serve his purpose nicely. He climbed his way to the cliff where he stopped to look at the round moon. If only he would be strong enough... He raised his hands towards the moon and concentrated, summoning whatever power he might have at his use at will. His arms shook, he gritted his predatory teeth as he swore he could feel his eyes bleeding. Finally he felt an answer, a signal of souls connecting.

The Undying had expected to be hailed now. Had he not been paying extra attention to whatever vibes the air carried from realm to realm, his son's calling would have gone unnoticed. He stood up from the seat of his study, grabbed his staff and allowed his mind to break through the barriers of worlds to appear in the mortals' realm. Not many of the Djinn were able to do that, and for centuries The Undying had to study to succeed, even when the barriers were at their thinnest. Opening his eyes again, he was glad to see his son alive and well.

"I did not expect you still be in one piece," he smirked. "You must have upheld the laws of masquerade well."

"Father -," the young Djinn said while sweeping his black blood off his eyes. "I am... confused. I'm not sure if I am thinking the right thoughts. I... I have felt strange emotions... conflict, is that..."

"Tut-tut, the Council engulfed your creativity with lies?" The Undying sighed.

"They warned me, going enchanted with the waker would be the downfall of us all!"

The Undying burst out in maniacal laughter. "Aaaaahahaa, those fools!" he shouted, sending every nocturnal animal within a mile radius running for their lives. "They speak of hating the humans, especially your waker, am I right? To execute everyone you can, correct? Shove the poor creature who woke you into the flames of Hell, right?"

The young Djinn merely nodded. Those had been the Council's words. Once The Undying had contained his laughter he continued: "Ah, yes, what a delight it is, to see those miserable creatures killing themselves with their greedy egos, but that is not the whole truth. I sense the Council's orders are controversial to your situation, hmm?"

"I do not know what woke me," the young Djinn sighed, falling to the ground on his knees. "She... I don't know what she is. She is not human, she can't be. There isn't a trace of greediness, selfishness or wrath inside her. She is pure and innocent, but without a will to live. I..."

He decided not to finish what he almost blurted out. Instead, he bowed deeply; "Father! I beg of you, guide me! I don't know what I can do!"

The Undying blinked; how unbecoming of a Djinn, but his son must've faced something extremely unusual to become that confused. He, too, had felt the same. One of his wakers had thrown him off-guard, had surprised him with the purity of her being and how still she could keep her mind even when in the middle of Hell. He couldn't blame his son about it; he, too, was guilty of soft emotions.

He hated to admit it, but he would like to see her again, if only by glance. Oh, the sweet, blonde hair, the full lips... and the cheeky dismissal comment; no, he didn't wish he had never met her.

The young Djinn was quick to explain the whole situation when The Undying requested it. It became clear to him that his son was fascinated by this Angelika. "A girl of faith, is she?" The Undying confirmed. "Then reveal the truth to her. Gain her trust, and once you have the chance, open her eyes."

"She might never believe me," the young Djinn sighed. "It will hurt her to know the truth."

"The innocent always suffer the most, and you know it," The Undying replied. "They are a rare species. Imagine the power that could run through their untainted souls, the might they carry inside them, yet don't know how to unleash."

"What can I do?"

"Forget the Council and their orders. Do as you feel right, that will take you furthest. Though they are hazardous in most situations, emotions can also unleash powers that have been restrained. Don't fear them; use them. The more you seem human, the less the Crusaders will suspect you, but be careful – you cannot fool them forever."

It was almost dawn; the eastern hills were coloured red in the morning sun.

"Father, can you see into my future? What will await me?"

The Undying one closed his eyes and tilted his head down. He was getting tired; using his powers so continuously was demanding, but he wanted to offer his guidance, for both his and his son's sake. He saw bloody battles; the Crusaders would find him soon. He saw a figure of a woman, too bright to look at, in the middle of a battle... she had no eyes. Illusions of emotions, hatred, grievance... passion – he wasn't mistaken; he saw passion.

Opening his eyes, he managed to slip his final words through the opening between the words:

"Arm yourself, son. Protect the waker. Slay your enemies. Trust yourself."

With a gust of wind, the illusion was gone. Toshiro sat on his knees in the grass. He burnt those words to his mind. He trusted Father more than the Council, they only thought of themselves anyway. He stood up, sent silent thanks to The Undying and returned to town. "Arm yourself," he muttered under his breath.

There was a martial arts store in town, that opened its doors rather early. Toshiro walked in as soon as the shopkeeper appeared. He was an old, Japanese man whose weapon-mastery reeked from his every pore. Toshiro knew he had come to the right place. "I need a sword," he said. "The best, most durable one you have."

The man fixed his glasses and disappeared to the back room for a moment, bringing back a selection of swords. "This one," he said, picking up one of them. "Has a black laqued wood scabbard, black handle, differentially hardened by traditional clay-wrapping technique."

Toshiro took the sword in his hands for a moment. "Won't do." He handed it back.

"This one is crafted using only traditional materials and fittings. Tsuba, Fuchi, and Kashira are expertly made and finely crafted from black iron. The Habaki is hand made out of polished brass and each tsuka is covered in ray skin and tightly wrapped in the traditional cross over style ito with black cord."

"Impressive, but won't do."

The shopkeeper presented the last one. "This one is the oldest we've got, the blade is made of steel that hardens through the time. The documents state this dates back around four hundred years. It's very sturdy, a real piece of art, but it's forged for a left-handed user. It's pretty heavy, too, but if you think you can handle it..."

Toshiro's eyes glimmered. He recognized his own sword when he saw it. "Murasame!" he gasped under his breath. How on earth had his sword been transferred from the Land of Rising Sun to England?

"I'll take it," Toshiro declared.

He walked rather happily out of the store. It felt enormously good to hold the good old Murasame in his hand. He was quick to tie its sash around his waist and hide it under his trenchcoat when the first people gathered out from their apartments and headed to their work. Toshiro returned to his dorm, to find Angelika still asleep on his bed. She looked very peaceful and relaxed, unlike when awake. It felt like a sin to wake her.

But then again, she had awaken him. There were two more wishes to go.

------------------------------------------------

To evildolly: Why, yes, I could use a beta. :-) Fresh ideas and opinions are always more than welcome.


	7. Ancient Quarrel Continued

Wishmaster: Exodus

Wishmaster © Live Film and Mediaworks, Inc.

Wishmaster II: Evil Never Dies © Artisan International, Inc.

Story © Kogamitsu (that's me)

Ancient Quarrel Continued

The next day Toshiro couldn't be arsed to appear on the lessons. It wasn't that he would be studying, really, the pesky humans would soon move from place to place with the timetable he would organize for them. Instead, he decided to take a minor stroll around just outside the campus, perhaps there would be more idiots to fool. It was a rather bleak autumn day, the trees had shed all their leaves and city animals had began to turn on their winter furs. Strangers moved from here to there, unfamiliar faces to Toshiro and to each other, minding their own businesses... He would've liked to cause a bit of a chaos but knew full well it would attract unwanted attention.

He stopped on his track that instant. As if he had seen...

The leader of the thugs, the very same guy he threw to a rosebush just the other day. What the heck was he doing here, in that group of people that clearly weren't his normal gang?

They stared at each other, straight in the eyes. Toshiro needed not the Djinn senses of premonition to know this might end badly. It was in the air, the oppressing feeling that he had left something unnoticed and it might come and kick him in the back... right about now?

Trusting the small, warning sense Toshiro leapt up, curling himself to form a back flip, just in time to avoid the knife that was meant to pierce his lungs. Rather bold, he thought, to assault him right out on the public. Toshiro grabbed the assaulter by his knife hand, twisted him on the ground relieving him of his weapon and broke its blade with bare hands. Four other men surrounded them, including the thug leader who undoubtedly would still pick up rose thorns from his arse. "Don't get too close to him," he said. "This guy's not afraid of physical fights. He tossed 200lb lads around like empty sacks."

"You are one of the Crusaders," Toshiro growled, ready to react to the slightest sign of hostility. "How fitting. I suppose you practice killing us on ones like Angelika?"

"And I take it she's the one who brought you here," the thug leader replied. "That brat won't stand a chance against you, we would've drowned her for the sake of the whole world if you hadn't stopped us."

"Alas, and history shall repeat itself," Toshiro pushed his trenchcoat out of the way and pulled out Murasame. Civilians who saw it gasped and screamed, running away from the scene while desperately trying to tap 999 on their mobile phones. 999-9 was the as close as they got. The few of Crusaders retreated couple of steps backwards. The Crusaders seemed to have had nothing better than a knife, or even worse; nothing. "What will you do?" Toshiro asked, raising his sword up. "You will run into trouble for fighting in public, your soon-to-be-overthrown-authorities will take care of it, but they cannot catch me. Not unless I will it."

One of the Crusaders, the master perhaps, stepped forward. Something in him made even Toshiro cringe slightly; he was surprisingly massive for a human, he had his long, ebony hair tied to a loose ponytail and he was wearing all white; jeans, trenchcoat, and a hoodie with a great cross embroidered on it. He was different from the other three, not only by his appearance but his attitude as well. He was calm and still – as if he faced the likes of Toshiro on daily basis. "Their authorities do not matter," he said, speaking in surprisingly soft and genderless tone. "Your death is our only objective now."

The Crusader that Toshiro had thrown first sprung up, and joined their line while the rest took out their weapons as well – the master of the Crusaders drew a grand sword, apparently from nothingness. "No fear, lads, the Crusaders will get your back if you are arrested!" the thug leader screamed. "No fear! GET'IM!!!!"

All but the master threw themselves at Toshiro, who leapt out of the way, high enough to perch on a street light. While balancing there, he took a quick glance at the surroundings; the open area was now emptied of civilians, he was not in hazard of violating any laws that bound the supernatural beings. But there weren't any battleground advantages either. The only place he could go without them following was already occupied by him; the street light tops. He could try the trees and the building rooftops if he needed.

"One swordsman, one with a knife, one with a tire iron and one unarmed..." he muttered to himself. Best shot would be to take down the master and hope to scare the rest off. With this in mind, he hopped down from the street light ready to take him down with first strike, but was taken aback when he stopped his strike rather effortlessly.

"You can do better than that..." he grinned.

Toshiro backflipped by instinct, hardly evading the master's sword. He landed, chopped the unarmed Crusader vertically in half, and re-lunged towards the master, who blocked his blade with his own. He kept on swinging Murasame, without any other results than breaking sweat. It was then when he realized to his own horror how rusty he was. Seeing the slight change in his eyes, the master smirked and pushed him away. "Afraid, are you?" he mocked. "As you should, your strikes would've killed a mortal already, yet still I stand."

After slicing the man and his tire iron in two, Toshiro swept sweat from his forehead. If... er, no, **when** he would survive this, he really needed to get back to the basics. "Who are you!?" he growled, his voice like the roar of thunder and eyes blood red. His opponent smiled as deviously as he had smiled before, if not even more. "You don't even know who you are facing?" the master laughed. "You don't recognize the one who put your kind into slavery, into your eternal bondage?"

All colour drained from Toshiro's already white face: "Raphael!"

It struck him in hard; the master Crusader was the archangel Raphael himself, the one who bound Iblis, the father of all Djinn and whom the celestial god dubbed Azazel for not bowing to humankind, into a hole in a desert and piled a few truckloads of stones and rocks on top of him.

Toshiro tightened his grip on the handle of Murasame as a halo of light surrounded Raphael. "Your last chance, young Djinn," he declared. "Kneel down and beg for mercy. I might grant you freedom if you serve God once more, and live here as a part of this world."

Turning his head slightly, Toshiro let his mind wander for a moment. He thought of what he had seen and heard in the mortals' world. The news of wars, famine, terror, disease... global warming, floods, draught. "If I was a bird -" he asked Raphael, barely loud enough for him to hear. "Would I swim in oil somewhere? If I was a wolf of snowy mountains, would I howl now for the last time? If I was a lake, would I have grown closed already? If I was still a child, what colour of a sky would I be seeing?" (1)

The smug grin disappeared from Raphael's face. "You misunderstood us," Toshiro declared, lifting Murasame back up to his stance. "We are driven by free will, a will to fight for our right to exist. You cannot make me a deserter."

The fight continued, both Raphael and Toshiro exchanged blows and cuts that some hit their target, some were blocked and parried. Once Toshiro saw his opportunity, he swept Raphael's feet from beneath him, making him fall hard on the ground. He moved to deliver the final strike to him when an impact, a celestial pulse threw him violently on the ground. Raphael stood up, his hand still erected to repeat his attack if necessary while Toshiro gasped air to fill his deflated lungs again.

Raphael looked at him, mocking him with his eyes, but taken aback by Toshiro's fluent skills of war. "You fool," he growled. "We will meet again. Next time, I won't offer you mercy."

Vanished into thin air, Raphael left the arena leaving the thick thug leader behind him. Toshiro stood up from the ground, holding his extremely sore left arm. Raphael had made a rather nasty cut and it was bleeding black blood generously. The thug leader, realizing he was the sole mortal survivor, vamoosed out the back very quickly when Toshiro's fierce eyes suggested a re-match. Left alone, Toshiro sheathed Murasame and limped back towards the campus when he heard a rather panicked female voice demanding someone to do something to the cadavers he left behind. With a small wave of his hand, he dissolved the corpses into nothingness, though earning a one more soul wasn't much of a consolation any more.

Only some moments later the re-frozen bag of ice lay on Toshiro's sore chest while he tightened the bandanna around his arm. The frustration of not being able to use his own powers to heal or defend himself was starting to do his head in. Overall, the situation buggered him. He felt like really, really wreaking some havoc now but unfortunately he was too tired to get out of the bed. He'll just take a small nap, then he'll get back to it.

Some hours later Angelika was making her way back to her dorm room, when Toshiro was once again leaning on her door. The sight of him made her stop in her tracks; his shirt under his trenchcoat was shattered and there was a nasty looking cut on his left cheek. "T-toshiro...!" she gasped. "What happened?"

"Hmm, this and that," Toshiro replied casually. "Some people didn't share my point of view, so we... debated."

"B-but... your clothes! They're broken!" Angelika exclaimed, though to be honest with herself, she was laying her eyes on where the fabric had gone, not where it was still intact. Toshiro shrugged; "Mere garments. Nothing to worry about."

"I... I c-can try to f-fix them," Angelika replied, irritated by her incapability to form a non-stuttering sentence. "I... I'm pretty good a-at sewing. Come on in."

Angelika's dorm room was spotless. It was quite feminine, she had a mellow pink blanket on her bed and wine-red lace curtains. As Toshiro looked again, he saw a white fluffy rabbit lying on the bed, a poster of a kitten and a puppy and nothing less than the Holy Bible on the night stand. But there was something else that caught his attention more than the overall look of the room. It was Angelika herself. She changed from that timid mouse to a home fairy that did every little thing with precision and confidence; she swung her backpack on the bed, turned an orange kettle on and picked up a sewing kit from under her bed. "R-right, let's s-see your shirt..." she said. "I... I'll see w-what I can d-do."

Without batting an eye, Toshiro took off his trenchcoat and his shirt. He ignored the rather dazzled Angelika who was left staring at his topless body, but just as quickly she took the shirt and turned her head. He grinned; he enjoyed teasing her, even like this. Drinking the coffee that Angelika offered him a few moments later, he watched her fixing his shirt, and wondered how would she look without clothes.

He bet she would have a heavenly body.

(1) This is translated chorus of CMX, Kotiteollisuus and 51 Koodia's song "Vapaus Johtaa Kansaa"


	8. Sacrificial Angel

Wishmaster: Exodus

Wishmaster © Live Film and Mediaworks, Inc.

Wishmaster II: Evil Never Dies © Artisan International, Inc.

Story © Kogamitsu (that's me)

Sacrificial Angel

Toshiro's shirt was nearly broken beyond repair, but Angelika proved rather creative. She found spare pieces of grey fabric and using them as an under layer, she transformed the sword cuts into artistic claw marks. She had tried asking again how he got his shirt broken but received only vague replies about debates and old disagreements until she decided to drop the subject.

The sun was already down when Toshiro got to put on his shirt again. He was quite astonished by the new look of it, it looked as if it came straight from some heavy metal catwalk. The full-body mirror on Angelika's white wardrobe worshipped his form. "It's excellent," he said. "How can I repay you?"

"Oh... d-don't bother, it was nothing..." a slight blush crept on Angelika's pale cheeks.

"There must be something I could do for you?"

"N... no... I l-like sewing. It was m-my pleasure."

Somewhere in the distance, a roar of thunder broke the silence of the evening. Then the raindrops began to drum the windows of the city that was beginning to celebrate the long-awaited weekend. Neither Toshiro nor Angelika said anything, not even when the thunder crept closer and finally caused a power failure at the campus area. Only then Angelika looked around; the lights were out, the radio was silent and worst of all – though not as immediate concern – the warming system was dead. If the power won't come back, it would get very chilly in a few hours.

"I see," Toshiro shrugged. "Will you be all right by yourself?"

"W-well..." Angelika's voice was hardly loud enough to be heard. Had she been honest, she would've said no. She didn't have a lot of warm clothes left – her winter coat was shred to pieces last spring – and if the power wouldn't come back, her room would be ice cold by the morning. Majority of the windows in the dormitory leaked, so there was always moderate draft. It would be a cold and lonely night. Maybe if Toshiro...

No. He wouldn't. No one ever would. Bad idea, and maybe a bit unchastely as well.

Toshiro read her eyes like an open book. She wanted him to stay the night. Nothing intimate in mind, just to keep her safe. He laid his hand on Angelika's shoulder; "I can stay the night, if you wish."

This time Angelika smiled. She had started to learn that she couldn't fool Toshiro; he always knew what she had in mind. He smiled, too. Two wishes in.

A few hours later the power was still out. Toshiro kept warm by wearing his trenchcoat, but Angelika had to curl up in her blanket and still she was shivering. It was unusually cold that night. Toshiro sat down next to her on her couch and shivered. His race wasn't really that used to cold, being spawned from smokeless fire they were rather fond of warmth. Noticing that the trenchcoat wasn't enough, Angelika hesitated a moment before suggesting;

"Would you... would you need some blanket?"

Toshiro turned slightly. "Yeah," he replied. Shyly Angelika unwrapped herself and offered the blanket. He, however, took just a quick glance at it and her before he pulled her right next to him and wrapped them both up. Angelika blushed completely; never had she been this close to anyone, let alone a man! It was absurd, she hardly knew him and shouldn't even be in the same room with him without anyone else, who knows what everyone would think! It was... it was...

... comforting.

Angelika found herself enjoying being this near to Toshiro, even if it was against all the chastity laws of Christianity. Why, as a matter of fact? What would be so sacrilegious in being close to one another? It's not like they were doing anything pornographic, they were keeping warm. And even if it wasn't cold, they would've been two close friends sitting on a couch together. For crying out loud, it would seem some of her bullies had been right; all the nice things she had missed because of her religiousness, thinking everything is a sin.

A few moments later they had both fallen asleep, not waking up even when the electricity came back, the lights came on and the radio began playing silent blues. Toshiro reacted only slightly, opening is left eye just enough to see everything was still all right.

It was dawn when Toshiro woke up. Angelika was still silently asleep, resting her head on his chest and her warm breath caressing his skin. She was such a beauty, nothing like usual humans that reeked of their ego-centric thoughts and deeds. He reckoned the likes of her still exist, though are extremely rare. His fingers ran through her black, soft hair, gently enough to keep her in her dream land. He felt a strange bond between them – not only the bond between the waker and the Djinn, but something else as well. Maybe... maybe it was the voice of his free will? Maybe it wanted him to tell and show her everything, to let her know the truth of things, to end her meaningless suffering.

Angelika moved slightly. Toshiro caressed her cheek slightly when suddenly, she spoke in her dreams:

"Toshiro... I...wish I could love the real you..."

Toshiro froze. Had he heard right? Was that her third wish? To love the real him, the demon from the void between the worlds?

He knew this could end up badly. One would have to have a very slick tongue to get a Christian girl to love a demon. The wish was beyond his powers; she would have to give her love freely or the wish would never come true. A wish only she could grant.

Toshiro let out a heavy sigh. He admitted he knew nothing of human love, even less how to make a human fall in love. He doubted they knew either. This could end up really badly. He would need to reveal himself, but how, oh how to do it without sending her running away in hysteria? This he would need to ponder on for a while before doing much else.

The morning birds had already finished their breakfasts in the morning dawn when Angelika began to open her eyes. Toshiro was already wide and awake, but had not moved the slightest. He had found himself enjoying the feeling of her breath on his chest. Angelika took a glance at her wrist watch, then sprung up in terror. "Oh no!" she cried out. "I'm late for my class!"

"Shh... it's Saturday," Toshiro reminded her. "No classes today."

A sigh of relief escaped Angelika's lips. She curled back around the blanket until she realized that she was actually leaning on Toshiro. Quickly she moved a bit further away, again a blush taking over her face. Toshiro cared not; instead, he laid his hand on her shoulder again."Would you like to go for a morning walk?" he said casually, like they had been together for ages. Again, Angelika hesitantly agreed – what would be wrong with going for a walk, anyway?

Toshiro offered her morning tea and breakfast at a nice, cosy café, and afterwards retreated outside with her. He lit up a cigarette on the same open area where he had just yesterday fought for his life. His wounds still smarted like hell and the 'workout' he had was hurting his muscles. How he hoped this day would prove to be more peaceful.

As if fate had put its bent sense of humour to use, from the corner of his eye Toshiro saw a white figure standing just a few meters away from him and Angelika. She was too busy fixing out the hem of her skirt to notice the colour once again drain from Toshiro's face, as his whole body cried in agony when it realized what would await for it.

"Descendant of Iblis!" Raphael cried out. Toshiro stretched out for Murasame, only to realize it was lying on the bed of his dorm room. This, he thought, would be the end of him. Raphael seemed to think the same, even with more the joy when he saw Angelika with him. "You brought your waker to me, Djinn, how convenient," he smirked.

"Angelika, stay back!" Toshiro warned, stepping between her and Raphael.

"You can't protect her, Djinn – not from me. It's either you or her now. Which one shall die for the sake of the world?"

"Neither!" Toshiro growled. "You'll kill no more of us, and I doubt you'd get so low as to kill an innocent just to keep us in slavery, would you, Raphael?"

Raphael burst in laughter. "You blame me for your bondage, Djinn?" he said after suppressing his amusement. "It was your predecessor that caused it, he gave mankind weaponry and cosmetics, and refused to bow before them when they were created to this world."

"THIS WORLD WAS PROMISED TO US!!!"

Angelika flinched; never had she thought to see Toshiro in such rage. Nor had she any idea what they both were on about; what, this world? No more killing of who? Why does this man keep calling Toshiro a 'Djinn'? Who is he anyway?

But she did, however, sense the tension and the danger in the situation. She watched Raphael pull out the great sword, sending people running away in terror. Angelika knew she should, too, but she couldn't make her legs move. "This is the end, Djinn," Raphael growled. "God sent your race to Hell and intends to keep you there, even at the cost of an innocent's life."

"You hypocrite," Toshiro spat. "You should abide by the laws your god set, even if you are an archangel."

Angelika shook her head; she couldn't believe what she just heard! This man, this... archangel... he claimed he would kill her to keep these Djinn in Hell. She knew God had banished the Devil from Heaven and from his service, but surely He wouldn't kill innocents to firm his status? No... He Himself had set out the law, 'Do not kill', surely he would abide his own laws? Right?

Right?

Raphael lunged, but more at Angelika than Toshiro. He was awake, though, and pushed Angelika to the side before Raphael's blade would have sliced her in two. He sank his knee in Raphael's guts and pushed him back with every ounce of strength he had left. There wasn't much; Raphael recovered in record time, and with his trademark impulse, he sent Toshiro violently back on the ground, deflating his lungs again. An aura of some sort appeared around him as he let his sword down and erected his hand towards Toshiro. Though she had never believed in magicks or sorcery for that matter, Angelika realized in split second that Raphael prepared to deliver the final blow.

Never had there been such a controversy inside Angelika; one voice told her to let the archangel destroy Toshiro, whatever fiendish creature he might be, but another voice reminded her of everything Toshiro had done for her; he had saved her from her bullies, he was friendly and, as a matter of fact, her only friend. If he was dead, what would she have left?

In the heat of the moment, Angelika threw herself at Toshiro, shielding him from the ray of force that hit her instead of him, right in her face. The poisonous fire that Raphael had sent began burning her from inside, robbing her of her sight and leaving her lying on Toshiro, shaking in agony. Toshiro, who had accidentally shaken off his human disguise, was quick to get back up on his feet. Not to attack Raphael again, but to realize that the blow that was meant for him had been taken for him. He partly picked her up from the ground, lying her head on his chest.

Raphael was taken aback, only for a brief moment though. "It is settled, then," he said. "She won't live long. If you really care about her, it would be most merciful to end her suffering now."

The young Djinn gave him the most murderous gaze. "I swear, if you live 'till Judgement Day, you will burn a week longer than the rest of angels!"

With that, the Djinn picked Angelika up in his arms and hurried to his safe haven, the dorm room and laid her on his bed. If he wanted to keep her alive, he would have to act fast. He laid a cold, wet cloth on her eyes and tore off all her clothes. He would have loved to enjoy the view longer, but covered her with a cold, wet towel to keep her body temperature from rising too high. He also laid a bowl next to his bed, right under Angelika's hand that hung outside the bed. With his sharp claw, he made a small but deep cut in her palm and let the tainted blood drop out while new, pure blood would gradually flow in her veins again.

After that, he sat down on a chair and waited. The rest was no longer up to him.


	9. Reinforcements Have Arrived

Wishmaster: Exodus

Wishmaster © Live Film and Mediaworks, Inc.

Wishmaster II: Evil Never Dies © Artisan International, Inc.

Story © Kogamitsu (that's me)

Reinforcements Have Arrived

A sigh of desperation escaped The Undying's lips. His head drooped over the pool of visions as he felt the dreams of the Djinn fall and shatter, running through their fingers like dust.

The Waker was mortally wounded.

He had observed the whole fight and its aftermath, cursing Raphael and his kind into the depths of eternal peril in his mind. Rage filled his veins so rapidly he wasn't able to stop his fists from shaking. This wouldn't be the news the Council would like to hear; they had made it perfectly clear that should his son fail, they would both be sent to death with their heads in their hands. That was not an option to The Undying, he liked the current location of his head: on his shoulders, on top of a little pole called neck.

A massive chair moved slightly on the floor as The Undying collapsed his full weight on it. His time on the task ran through his mind as he pondered upon the situation; how he never got so close to freeing his race from this torment as his son was now. His mind wandered, finally coming upon the dawn when it all changed. He wasn't a scholar, but he had been around since the beginning; he was the seventh Djinn to form out from the smokeless fire – a direct descendant to Iblis the Corrupt. He remembered the dawn as if it had just happened; he had just finished his tour around Eden, seeing everything was in order when Iblis summoned all his six descendants to the Celestial Opening.

Eden was promised to the Djinn; they were born after the angels who inhabited the realm nowadays called Heaven, and there were no other homeless beings. Despite their hellish features, the Djinn had served the angels' lord since he had promised to create a home for them. The Undying rejoiced, since now they would finally get rewarded for their hard work. But as he arrived to the Opening, he sensed confusion amongst his kind, and Iblis himself stared at this puny, weak, earth-born creature with great wondering. "What is this?" he asked the angels' lord. "What is this miserable being?"

"This, Iblis, is a man," the lord replied. "The habitant of Eden."

There was an audible gasp and cursing in the crowd of the Djinn. "Preposterous!" Iblis exclaimed. "This land, this Eden was promised to us! And now you present us this... this... 'man' I could trample under my feet, and you tell us he gets the world we have worked so hard to receive!?"

"The man is your new lord and master. You are to serve them. Now, bow before him."

Iblis growled. "NEVER!"

"You refuse to bow before your master?"

"We have no masters. Not any more. At least not them."

This was unheard of, since the light-born angels had not free will that the Djinn were born with. Light goes wherever their master points it, but fire spreads at free will, wherever it might want to go. The angels' lord was furious and Iblis knew it; he knew the lord hated disobeying like plaque.

"Then your kind will no longer find haven in here. I condemn you, Azazel! You shall wander homeless until the very last of you have perished."

So the Djinn lingered, a few of the original seven dying in the first couple centuries. As the population of the man grew, Iblis – now dubbed Azazel – rose to brief rebellion and brought weaponry and cosmetics to the man. Seeing this, the angels' lord sent his archangel, Raphael, to defeat Iblis and condemned the rest into the void between the worlds, one by one. To that void, where The Undying, last of the original seven, sat in his study and felt powerless to help to right the wrongs. He wanted to do something... anything...

He turned to look outside. The sky was red and the soil was black. Devilish crows habited the dead trees. The sun was blazing hot, there was no moon. No water, no game, no crops, nothing. Only the castle and its suburbs. The remaining Djinn survived solely on will power; they were hungry, but there were no food. They were thirsty, but there was nothing to drink. They were tired, but afraid to fall asleep, for they might not open their eyes ever again. This was their punishment. There must be something he can do to help; he, too, suffered like everyone else. He only concentrated on studying to forget the pain.

Mayhap he should turn to his muse?

Once more The Undying gazed at his pool of visions, this time reaching out to other side of the humans' world. As a vision of a blonde, sporty woman appeared on he surface of the pool, The Undying let her name escape his lips.

"Alexandra..."

A lot had happened since they had seen each other the last time. It was a minor time paradox to begin with; they knew they had met, they both remembered each other, but it never happened. In the end, Alexandra's wish had changed the past and sent him back into the Stone of the Secret Fire. But the altered future wasn't of her liking. Her boyfriend had found another woman, her little sister had died in a car accident. But she was strong; though now completely alone, she managed on her own, crying very little of her life situation. The Undying was proud of her; it had been a true honour to be defeated by such an exceptional mortal. Maybe one day they would meet again, and he could tell her...

Yes, once more the muse had inspired The Undying. There was nothing he could do to help his son as long as he was trapped in the void. He would need to go on the field, once more, and get his hands dirty. He knew his magicks would become sealed even if he'd manage to break into the mortals' world, but if they would succeed together his might would grow tenfold.

The Undying grabbed his staff from the corner and lifted it up high in the air. His timing must be exact, of the tides of the barriers would crush him. It was no longer full moon and the tides were no longer as calm as they had been when he had contacted the mortals' world the last time, but he knew breaking through was possible. Others had done it before him. He had seen Iblis do it – he near stopped the gears of time from turning when he felt the tides briefly calm down, only for the split second it took him to pass. The Undying repeated what he had learnt from the lord of the Djinn, only to find it being more intense than he had anticipated. Though the time had practically stopped, the tides came crashing on him hard, nearly crushing him under their weight. Almost there, almost there, keep your old bones together... just a moment more... he felt the tides tearing him apart, limb by limb, knowing full well it's just a sensation. Just a moment more... don't give up. Think of your son, think of the waker... Heck, keep every Djinn the archangels had slain in mind!

Breathless but victorious, The Undying rose up from the frozen ground, every muscle in his body exclaiming their objections to even the slightest moves. A second more and the tides of the barrier would've ground his bones to dust. Was he to face Raphael now, he would've been defeated before he'd have the chance to defend. He would need to find a safe haven, rest and after he felt strong enough again, he would need to find the waker before Raphael finishes his task. Having the waker defenceless and Toshiro worn and wounded, he wasn't about to waste his time much longer.

Scent of flowers lingered in the air, as the young Djinn gently ran his deadly claws through Angelika's black hair. She responded, looking at him into his eyes, giving the most beautiful smile. It was love, they both knew it. Love that overcame the barriers of race. No one would ever take this away from them. The soft feeling of her lips on his was enough to send even him to the highest reaches of Nirvana, where he would never have to descent back to earth again.

Reality disagreed; a janitor dropped his brooms noisily to the floor right at Toshiro's dorm room's door, tearing the young Djinn violently from his pleasant dream. Holding his breath, he listened to every little sound he might hear that could give away the intruder's identity, and calming down when he heard the janitor cursing under his breath, picking up his brooms and carrying on. Only then he found the time to question the dream he saw. An uneasiness crept up his spine when he had actually received a clear-as-day message from his subconsciousness; he had fallen for a human.

Not only that, he had felt a disturbance in the magical field; someone or something extremely powerful had entered this realm, and he feared he might have more archangels after him and Angelika. Glancing nervously outside from the gap between the blinds on the window to see the setting sun, he gradually pieced himself together. Father had encouraged him to trust himself, after all.

Anything for the brotherhood, he convinced himself. If falling in love was part of his mission, then that is what he would do.


	10. All Is Forgiven

Wishmaster: Exodus

Wishmaster © Live Film and Mediaworks, Inc.

Wishmaster II: Evil Never Dies © Artisan International, Inc.

Story © Kogamitsu (that's me)

All Is Forgiven

A few years after Shannon's death, Alexandra had left everything she had had to America and headed out to Europe. She had desperately needed a change in her surroundings and Northern England had proved to be the right place for her now. She had continued her work as an appraiser in Newcastle Museum, silently hoping it would give her another boost, another dramatic event in her life to make it all worth it again. But someone beat her to it; mysterious fire had killed her colleague and shortly after a few people had been listed as missing from the nearby college. It all was too convenient to be a mere coincidence; Alexandra still had the encounter with The Undying in her fresh memory and as strange as she realized it was, she had hoped to see him again, if only once. He had made her feel alive.

Even though she had kept an eye out for him all this time, day after day she had gone by without seeing his familiar face, the devious smirk that was, in its own way, rather charming. And the eyes, the brightest blue eyes ever seen on this Earth – eyes that saw through every bit of lie and excuse.

Alexandra sighed and packed her handbag. Another day at work had come to an end, and everything left for this day would be an empty apartment and cheesy late-night TV shows following the lives of cheeky, cheery Britons.. She was quite sure she would never get accustomed to British sense of humour. .

Her blonde ponytail swung from left to right and back in the pace of her hasty steps. Despite the distant thunder some time ago, winter was taking over slowly but surely and the air was getting trifle colder. She reckoned that the Djinn, being fire-born, would dislike such temperatures and wouldn't spend much time outside, making her chances of spotting him even more minor. She was nearly ready to give up the hunt.

When she finally retired to her apartment, I front of the telly like millions of others, she switched off her mobile phone to call it a day. After the cheeky, cheery soaps of EastEnders and Emmerdale came the news. This was where lots of people tuned off to more cheekiness and cheeriness, but Alex wasn't the type to turn off the news. She missed America – not enough to return, but enough to keep an eye on what was going on. After the local happenings, the newsreader told of an art gallery robbery that happened seven years ago near where Alexandra used to live. She remembered it well, for who other plead guilty than the very Djinn she knew – the dark devil, Nathaniel Demarest.

That wasn't the reason why Alexandra was quickly shocked, but what threw her off was the fact that he had been seen – right there, in Newcastle. Right that very day. She took off with such a haste she forgot to turn off the TV and switch her phone back on. Racing down the stair hall she questioned why was she running like that. Why did she want to see him so badly? Was it because... was it because she wished to feel alive again? She wanted to feel the adrenaline, the thrill of running for her life. The thrill of giving her all.

She had scouted for two hours before she realized she didn't only leave her TV on, but she had left her coat home as well. The chilly late-autumn wind broke all the way to her bones, having her regret deeply her childish enthusiasm. Even if she met him again, she would no longer of any interest to him. He would have another target. Another... woman, maybe.

Alex shivered, not completely because of the cold, but she questioned her sanity of her previous thought. Did she really just think that Nathaniel would have "another woman" instead of her?

Best not go there. Alexandra wrapped her arms around herself to keep warm as she turned around to return home. She had ran through a few alleys that were usually occupied by assorted thugs, and sore luck hadn't forgotten to provide her with her share. One followed her for a moment, until she turned sharply around. "The fuck's your problem!?" she shrieked at his face, and a second later she paid attention to a tire iron that he was carrying, though just as the thug was about to put it into use, Alexandra booted him hard and thoroughly into his general gentleman's area, most likely relieving him of possible, future 18 years of responsibility. The head start she got proved useless, however, because just as quickly as she had left the scenery, more came along and it didn't take them much time to get her surrounded in an alley.

"Let's have fun with this one," a thug that was holding her against the wall drooled on her shoulder, tearing her blouse open. She tried to give the boot, but it proved rather problematic while being held up against a wall by about five people. Gradually she lost her t-shirt, in shreds, and nearly her jeans, but at that point something else had caught her attention. A distant glow at the same alley – someone was smoking a cigarette just some ten meters away from them. She saw the fumes against the moonlight, but wasn't able to see the figure until it tossed the cigarette away and approached them. The moonlight revealed black, slightly curly, short hair and a pair of bright blue eyes, accompanied by rather broad shoulders and an eerie presence that distracted the thugs from their cheap entertainment.

It all happened in just a few seconds; the figure was as fast as it was deadly. One moment he grabbed a thug, the next moment the thug had made a swan-dive to the nearest garbage bin and was shortly followed by two others. He didn't react much even when one of the thugs dug his knife into his side, and pulled it a few inches towards himself. He did, however, dig the knife out and use it to make a Pez-dispenser out of the thug. The last one of the gang was the wisest one; after shitting himself he ran away and never came back, ending up taking pills in a distant asylum and talking this and that of a dark devil that slaughtered his friends.

Though his trademark black-and-blue tie suit had changed to a stylish leather jacket, a dark blue collar shirt and black jeans, Alexandra had no question about who he was. Through some miracle, she had found who she had been looking for. The Undying, Nathaniel Demarest, towered over her, holding out his hand to help her up again. His hand was warm, even in the cold wind that gave Alexandra violent shivers now that she had nothing else than her bra to cover her upper-half modesty. Nathaniel took off his jacket and laid it on Alexandra's shoulders as he escorted her back to her apartment, proving her theory of cold-vulnerable Djinn wrong.

Neither one said a word. No words were needed. The same mutual understanding and respect they had had since they first met long time ago had not vanished, but rather, had been replaced with a feeling of something greater.

Ross Noble quietly amused his audience with fizzy logic on the background as Alexandra cleaned the deep knife cut on Nathaniel's side. Whatever numbjuices his hellish body had created to help him ignore the pain were long gone by then, leaving him having hard time to keep a straight face. Earthly antiseptics didn't help either; Alexandra had to use half of a bottle of it because his thick, black blood dissolved three quarters of it before its job was done. She tried to be gentle, but more than once she touched a painful spot. She wouldn't have known had the pain not forced him to move away.

The first few hours of night drifted away in silence. Alexandra wasn't sure what she could say, Nathaniel didn't mind silence the slightest. But as the bleeding of his side wouldn't stop, it left Alexandra puzzled – ten years ago, in America, she had told him to blow his brains out right there, in front of her. She had seen the Colt Anaconda bullet tear his brains out, and just as quickly, they had reappeared. She had supposed that the wound would have closed by itself just as quickly. Even styptics didn't seem to work. She had been working on the cut all this time before she noticed the amused look on Nathaniel's face. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate her concern or the efforts she made to nurse him back to health, but the frustration that his blood caused her was amusing beyond belief. He couldn't help but chuckle slightly as Alexandra sighed, hardly hiding her beautiful smile and tossed her tools away. She stood up from the ground, sweeping sweat from her forehead. "I though you healed yourself automatically."

"Unfortunately I am no longer under the aegis of the prophecy," Nathaniel replied, turning slightly to a more comfortable angle. "I'm not on the mission, per se."

"On the mis... then why are you here? How did you get here?"

"It's not impossible to break from one world to another, though nine out of ten who try get killed in the turmoil that guards worlds from each other. Those who survive usually get killed within few hours, courtesy of various demon hunters."

There was something about the way he said 'demon hunters', as if the words had been acid that burnt his mouth when he spoke them. "Hunters?" Alexandra repeated. "What, as in...?"

Nathaniel gave her a meaningful look, straight in the eyes. "Yes," he said, reading her like an open book. The hunters capture, torture and exploit those they catch, finding out most efficient ways to destroy their targets. All immortals, whether hellish, celestial or neutral, had always to step lightly and adhere to their universal laws they call the Masquerade. If the mortals were ever united against them, everyone present in this world would be soon wiped out. The surprisingly many immortals on earth, each with their own motives, knew this full well, and the Djinn were put in the greatest hazard of all because of their mission. This Nathaniel knew, and worried more of the fate that his son might face if he can't find him soon enough.

But not tonight, he decided. Tonight he would soak in Alexandra's presence, gather strength for the battles he would face in near future. He was surprised how easily she had let him in her apartment, after what he had put her through. As if she either had forgotten... or rather, forgiven.

Had she?

It seemed so. Alexandra fixed a midnight tea for both of them and soon their cigarettes happily co-existed at the edges of her ashtray. Just as happily as they did. Nathaniel explained her the situation – it wasn't him, but his son that was on the mission now, and he had revealed himself accidentally to the Crusaders, now having people arriving to Newcastle from all over Europe just for the blood hunt. The waker, a weak, defenceless girl had been mortally wounded in his stead, and now the very same archangel was probably aware of him as well. No one could break through the turmoil barriers without alerting every immortal nearby paying attention to the changes in the atmosphere. He also admitted – though Alexandra had to persuade him a little – that he was definitely not in condition to face any greater threat than a few drunken thugs in an alleyway. He was tired and it would take long for the cut to heal naturally. Nothing he could do of it; as long as the world was not under the ruling of the Djinn, his powers were sealed. He couldn't do anything, not even if someone wished him to.

Alexandra listened to the story of Iblis and his six sons. Nathaniel was careful not to mention that he was one of them, let alone the only one left of the first seven. Though she still saw nightmares of the people he had slaughtered without second thought, she was now able to understand his grudge against humankind. It explained how he had looked at the miserable humans like insects on a kitchen table. Basically, they were. Humans were the ants that had taken over a house, and instead of evicting them, the housebuilder had exiled the Djinn.

It wasn't really something she had wanted to hear, but it was like a missing piece of a puzzle. Now she understood. She let out a soft sigh and had one more breath of calming nicotine before putting her cigarette out. "And you would kill us all, should your kingdom come?" she asked. Nathaniel chuckled at her childishness. All? Hell no, after they reign, they won't work as slaves ever again. Everyone was already sick of it, but up until lately, they've had very little choice.

"No," was all he found fit to reply. He leaned back, his eyelids becoming slightly heavier every second. He didn't even remember the last time he would've slept; for most of the time in the void, he had been too restless to even imagine closing his eyes, not even for a brief moment. But now was different; the tea Alexandra had offered him warmed nicely in his stomach, and the small cookies that he had fought not to devour immediately on the first sight of food had been spot on. He was, in almost any manner, satisfied. And what else he would've needed for complete satisfaction, well... he was certain the proposition would've ruined the splendid evening, with Alexandra throwing him out head-first. And even if she didn't, she probably would've supposed he was jesting.

When Alexandra disappeared back into her kitchen, Nathaniel laid down on the couch. He could still feel the intense burning in his muscles, knowing it would be gone by the morning, provided he could rest well. Alexandra hummed silently in the kitchen, probably deep in her thoughts or forgetting the Djinn had excellent hearing. Her song sounded almost like a lullaby, spreading the fatigue deeper into his being, until he could no longer keep his eyes open. He knew it was awkward, to fall asleep in her presence, but maybe he could forgive himself this time.

Alexandra popped back from the kitchen, drying her hands on a towel when her eyes met one of the sweetest sights in her life. Though knowing what kind of a demon Nathaniel truly was, he looked very different from his nature when asleep. He breathed in and out in deep, slow motion, his eyes gently closed and every bit of deviousness just vanished into nothingness. He looked, by every definition, human. Unknowingly, Alexandra's lips curved into a touched smile. She lifted up an extra quilt from her wardrobe and carefully laid it on him, tucking him in like the dearest friend. Maybe he wasn't as evil as he had lead her to think, after all. While still not accepting all his methods, Alexandra did admit to herself that she felt compassion. Despite being well-built, Nathaniel was near-anorectic, proving his point of the distress the Djinn currently lived in. Maybe... maybe the Djinn deserved this world more than humans did, Alexandra supposed, but what would happen to humankind if the Djinn reigned? What kind of masters they would make?

Instinctively Alexandra crouched, reached out her hand to touch Nathaniel's slightly curly hair that looked dark brown instead of black when indoors. It felt just as soft as human hair. She ran her fingers gently through his hair a few times, wondering why she was doing so. Something in her mind refused to see his diabolical nature any more. Fair enough, he had saved her life, suffering a deep cut in the progress. Would demons, if indeed so evil as the mythological or historical works described, put their hides in the line of fire for humans?

It was time she formed her own opinion, disregarding the obviously pious texts of religion and history. Alexandra left Nathaniel in peace, wore her teal-coloured PJ's and crawled under the sheets of her own bed. She didn't bother to close nor lock the door between her bedroom and living room. She knew Nathaniel better; he was a gentleman to the very end. Unlike majority of humans.


	11. Revealed Truth

Wishmaster: Exodus

Wishmaster © Live Film and Mediaworks, Inc.

Wishmaster II: Evil Never Dies © Artisan International, Inc.

Story © Kogamitsu (that's me)

Revealed Truth

Theories of parallel universes come of the few rare sightings into the worlds of different angels and demons, but in one world all these beings collide and coexists. Dream world is a universal fairground where all beings share equal statuses and may interact with each other without the fear of breaking into other worlds or causing changes in their own. To the Djinn, the Dream world provided the only access outside, though it was shunned as it often came to be that those who entered died in their sleep.

The Undying couldn't remember the last time he had slept. He had almost forgotten how demanding the feeling of tiredness was, how light his body felt in the dream world, and of course how dangerous it had proven itself to be. He had not dared to close his eyes after the Dream world had taken the life of Toshiro's mother. Though part of him was willing to depart in hope of a reunion, the rest of him reminded him of his responsibilities and the chance of a better future for the Djinn he wanted to witness.

The young Djinn didn't sleep either. He dozed off only accidentally, shaking himself awake the first chance he would get. All night in and out, he tried to figure out what to do. The Crusaders would surely come looking for him in the campus area, but there seemed to be no place in Newcastle where he could hide until Angelika would be strong enough to move again. If she ever would be.

He was relieved to hear a slight moan coming over from his bed. Angelika shifted slightly, slowly regaining her consciousness. The young Djinn stood up in awe; never would he have thought that a human could survive the archangels' toxic flames, let alone in this speed. Quickly shaking off his true form, Toshiro approached his bed, knelt down and laid his hand on Angelika's cheek. He was happy to see her react when he softly called her name. She would survive.

"Angelika..." he whispered.

Angelika recognized Toshiro's voice. She tried looking around her, momentarily thinking she hadn't opened her eyes. It didn't take long until the grim truth revealed itself to her. She was completely blind. "T-toshiro..." she gasped. "I... I can't see!"

Toshiro remained silent, running his fingers through her hair to sooth her. Had it not been for her, he would be blind in her stead now. That was not an option he would gladly even consider. For now, he planned to do his best to keep Angelika calm, figure out where to hide and... A heavy sigh escaped his lips. Her third wish sprung to his mind again. If he really was going to get her to love the real him, her blindness might ease out his work but it would make it more difficult to explain his true nature. He couldn't show her any more. He would have to explain.

"How are you feeling? Can you walk?" he asked quickly, taking a quick glance around. He could have sworn he felt a draft – a celestial being was near. "Angelika! We have to move."

"W-what is it?"

"Angelika, I promise I will explain everything later, but now I don't have the time. We have to move out, we cannot stay here. Dress up and we'll leave."

Angelika felt all the blood in her body rush to her cheeks. 'Dress up', he said? She was... naked? In front of a man? Outrageous! Shameful! Horrible, at the very least. She would've wanted to say something about it, but finally decided against it. She felt tension in the air, and Toshiro's tone of voice didn't leave much to her imagination. He helped her dress up in the clothes he had snatched earlier from her room; a white, long skirt, a pink top and a loose, white blouse. He had found it slightly disturbing that majority of her clothes were white or pink. Not that pure colours would've caused him troubles, they were just marching against his dark taste of style.

Just as the two of them approached the front doors of the dormitory building, they were blown open by an unseen force. The wind felt like thorns on Toshiro's skin; it was definitely of celestial origin. This was confirmed shortly as he saw Raphael walking in, his grand sword hanging from its sheathe. He grinned upon seeing the tired Toshiro and his blind waker hand-in-hand on a high school corridor. He didn't get to enjoy the sight too long, Toshiro quickly turned around and pulled Angelika with him. Alone he could've out-ran the archangel any time, but Angelika had very little athletic features in her. Raphael was gaining them shortly, making it obvious to Toshiro they weren't able to run away as long as they were moving in Angelika's pace.

As quickly as he could, he lifted her in his arms and quickened his pace as fast as his legs could carry them both. He got a good distance to Raphael, though he knew the archangel was able to follow his trail through the aura that the immortals left behind them. Through multiple desperate turns, Toshiro found himself soon from the swimming pools. It was a dead end.

The pool must be connected to the sewers, Toshiro supposed. He put Angelika down, laid his long leather jacket on her shoulders and told her to wait there.

"W-what are you doing?" Angelika stuttered, confused by the smell of chlorine in the air. "Toshiro, what is going on?"

SPLASH, said the pool. The young Djinn dived in, quickly making his way to the mesh fence that separated the pool from the sewer. Meanwhile Raphael had already made his way to the pools. "Why are you allying yourself with that demon, against the God's will?" he growled at Angelika. She shook in fear as she felt him draw closer. "You betray the God you have served all your life, mortal. You have given the demon the wishes he needs!"

"W-w-w-what are you t-talking about?" Angelika stuttered. Her heart raced so fast she felt she could die of it. She almost felt Raphael's breath on her skin, even though he was still few feet away. "I'm talking about the demon whose life you so valiantly saved," he replied.

"You mean... T-toshiro?"

"If that is the alias he moves under."

The young Djinn tore the mesh fence to shreds as if it had been made of paper. The sewer pipe was just big enough for him and Angelika to go through. Taking a glance from underwater, his eyes widened as he saw Raphael right next to Angelika, even reaching at the girl. His blood began to boil with rage – no one came that close to Angelika without his permission and lived to tell about it. Bouncing off from the floor of the pool, the young Djinn leapt towards Angelika. Halfway above the surface, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her into the water. Raphael roared in fury, knowing full well it would be of no use to follow them into the sewers. They were long gone in its maze, and would be out before he had every turn and dead end checked for them.

Angelika held her breath only instinctively. She was petrified upon feeling claws and thick, rough skin instead of human skin holding around her, and the more she struggled the tighter she was held. The time they were underwater seemed to take forever. Just as Angelika's lungs were near splitting, she felt her head rising above surface and air filling her again. She gasped loudly, restarting her struggle. The young Djinn pinned her against the wall, feeling a bit breathless as well. Finally forcing Angelika to calm down, he loosened his grip around her wrists just enough to let the blood circulate normally. Angelika caught her breath just enough to be able to speak again. "Who... w-what... are you?"

"I promised to explain it all later," the young Djinn replied, realizing it was of no use to hide his true nature any more. Raphael must have blown his cover already.

"T-toshiro, is t-t-t-t-that you? My God... t-t-t-that man was r-r-r-right...!"

He could feel her starting to shake, and it was not entirely due to the cold water. Pulling himself very close to her, he borrowed his body temperature and maybe, if he was lucky, at least some security. He soaked in the moment for a while; never he would've thought he could stay this close to her in his true form. "Now is not the time nor place," he whispered to her ear, as softly as he could with his hellish voice. "This is but an air pocket, it is still a long way to the surface. I can take us there, but you must not struggle any more. Understood?"

Angelika forced herself to nod. Whatever it was that she had gotten herself into, it was too late to get out of it any more. She wrapped her arms tightly around the young Djinn's slim waist, trying to stay close to keep the resistance as small as possible. The young Djinn filled his lungs with air before diving again This time he made all the way through the manhole, dragging himself and Angelika up on the alleyway where certain thug was still piecing himself together. As he saw the young Djinn, he lost it all completely and ran away, crying for his mother. Paying him no mind, he sat down right next to Angelika, both breathing heavily in otherwise silent night. After recovering, the young Djinn helped his waker up and strolled into the night, soon finding shelter from a motel he managed to book into after shaking off his true form again and asking whether the lobbyist wished for cash or charge.

Angelika headed for a warm shower the instant. The young Djinn discarded his wet garments on a nearby chair, being completely satisfied with only drying himself with a towel. He yawned, baring a set of savage teeth and letting out a slight growl. He felt so out-of-shape part of him was ashamed, though if someone had seen him walking around with pretty much nothing else than a somewhat loin cloth, they would've disagreed with him. He took a glance around, outside the window to see they weren't followed and inside the room to see where he would have room to rest. He chuckled slightly as he realized that in his haste, he had booked them into a one-bed room.

He awoke from his thoughts as he heard a slight scream and a thud from the bathroom. Ignoring the gentleman's rules he opened the bathroom door to check up on Angelika. She had slipped on the wet floor, still unclothed and soapy, and tried to find her way around back to the shower, though it seemed obvious she had lost her sense of direction. The young Djinn found the sight amusing, but also somewhat... hot. Angelika was no athlete, on the contrary; she was very skinny with barely no muscle nor fat. Her black hair covered partially her left breast, while she quickly covered them both with her arms as she felt the draft coming from the doorway. He helped her up and took her back to the shower. A great urge occurred to him; he would've wanted to press up against her in the warm, steamy shower and wash the rest of the scented soap off her body, but the dead-scared look on her face made him finally decide against it. Using every ounce of self-control he had, he gently caressed her cheek and left her. The tingly sensation in his groin only made his departing more hasty; his aim was to win Angelika's heart, not scare her to death with his nature, let alone his size.

When Angelika came back from the shower wearing nothing but a towel, the draft in the hotel room was freezing. The young Djinn sat at an opened window, cooling off and calming down. The cold winter winds served his purpose perfectly, but he closed the window when Angelika arrived. She stepped lightly, finding the edge of the bed and sitting down, tugging her legs up against her chest. He sat down next to her, saying nothing. She would need time. He would need patience.

Finally, Angelika spoke.

"W... what are you?" her voice was surprisingly calm.

"I am a Djinn; a demon condemned to dwell in the void between the worlds."

"T-t-then why... why are you here? What d-do you want o-of m-me?"

"I am here because you woke me from my prison. For that, I owed you three wishes. Upon the granting of the third wish, my race shall reign over this world that rightly belongs to us."

Every Djinn knew the story by heart; it had passed from generation to the next for millennia and it didn't take long for the young Djinn to retell the tale to Angelika. She shook her head in disbelief – the God she had served all her life had betrayed the Djinn? How could it be? The Bible said...

This was where the young Djinn burst into laughter. He laughed so hard he fell on his back on the bed, holding his stomach. After a while, when he got a hold of himself again, he stood back up. "The Bible?" he inquired. "The assorted collections of ancient myths? The fairy tale book? Oh, I did not realize it would be considered a religious book at some point of history... "

Angelika felt like the whole bottom of her life would've just shattered and collapsed from beneath her feet. All her life she had believed in fairy tales? She had believed in a hypocrite?

The young Djinn stood up from the bed. "All your mortal religions are mere works of your imagination, Angelika," he declared. "There are no good or evil beings, some of us merely have stranger sense of humour than the rest. The archangel that has been trying to kill us is a good example. Being an angel, he has no will of his own; his sole purpose is to serve this god of theirs. His intention has been to make us extinct ever since we turned our back on him – that is why he wants us to remain in the void. Nothing can thrive there; our death would be eventual."

He froze on his tracks as he heard a sob. Tears were running down Angelika's cheeks, her whole body shaking in shock. She cried for all her faith had been worth, knowing deep inside her the young Djinn wasn't lying. It all made sense. She had seen and heard Raphael. He had been ready to kill her in order to keep him from succeeding. He was cruel and merciless. Nothing the Bible had described the angels to be. The God she had served would have her dead to keep the Djinn dying.

The young Djinn sat next to her again. He pressed her head against his chest, wrapping his arms around her. Surprisingly, she responded to the embrace instead of breaking free. She felt him gently caress her hair, and she swore she could hear heartbeat from inside him. "I apologize," he whispered. He waited patiently until Angelika breathed normally again before helping her lie down on the bed and pulling the quilt on her. She needed rest, and he admitted he could use some as well. He headed towards a couch that he knew was too small for him to begin with when Angelika's timid voice broke the silence. "Where did you go?"

"I'm still here."

"Where will you sleep?"

"Anywhere."

"I..." Angelika's voice broke, as she still fought tears. "I'm scared."

The young Djinn blinked. He slipped under the same quilt with Angelika, sensing the insecurity that had taken over her. Hesitantly he pulled her close, leaving his arm around her. The soft scent of her hair was driving him crazy, but he managed to keep himself restrained. He was certain that his feelings would only cause him troubles, at least if he succeeded in his task. But the thought left him smirking slightly; perhaps fulfilling the third wish wouldn't be so difficult after all.


	12. Reunion

Wishmaster: Exodus

Wishmaster © Live Film and Mediaworks, Inc.

Wishmaster II: Evil Never Dies © Artisan International, Inc.

Story © Kogamitsu (that's me)

Reunion

Alexandra moaned in her dreams. She enjoyed the feeling of sturdy claws gently massaging her hips, the rough, grey skin rubbing against hers while two pairs of lips greedily sought for each other. Had she woken up mid-dream she would've booked a meeting with a shrink the first thing in the morning, but luckily her REM-phase of dream had passed before she got up from her bed and she had only vague memories of her dream. By the time she had dressed up she no longer remembered anything of it. She hardly remembered her nightly guest until she wandered to the living room and looked at the being lying on her couch. She expected to see Nathaniel,but his concentration had wandered during his dreams and he had unknowingly shook his human form off.

It was not a horrid sight, as Alexandra would have thought. In sleep, even The Undying lost all his intimidating features and eerie presence. He looked, as Alexandra though, rather... no, cute would never be the word. He looked human. Very human.

Alexandra's staring began to tingle The Undying slightly, shaking him awake. His blood red eyes met hers, though he saw a lot better in the darkness of the room than her. He blinked, sat up and realized his disguise had evaporated. A major 'oops', he considered it, but nothing earth-shaking. He grinned at Alex, who chuckled. "I know, I know," she said. "Don't you dare to say it."

The morning was cold and misty. River Tyne spread its curtain of fog everywhere it reached. Nathaniel liked the sight. After a hearty morning coffee and a cigarette he silently sent his gratitude to his generous hostess. When the Djinn would take over this world, he would make sure she wouldn't be mistreated. Maybe he could take her as a personal slave. Or a pet. He smiled at the idea as he inhaled the cigarette fumes until he felt his fingertips burn. Alexandra sat down on her cosy chair with her coffee as he put out his cigarette and exhaled.

"So..." Alexandra began, hesitating slightly. She wasn't sure if she should be asking this. "What are you going to do now?"

"I'll find the lad and his waker," Nathaniel replied casually. "And then I'll find the guy who's been slaughtering us, and put an end to his business. After that I'll make sure the lad can finish his business with his waker."

That was exactly what Alexandra didn't want to hear. Bringing the apocalypse was still in his plan. She sighed heavily. "I take it there's no stopping you? You really are going to bring the Armageddon?"

Slightly insulted, Nathaniel stole a glance at her. What did she expect? Him to start a charity work for world peace? He worked on wish department, not on wonders. And hadn't he just told her last night what the deal was? Unlike humans who were glad to back stab each others, a Djinn would never turn his back on his race.

Alexandra sighed once again. "Well, ask a stupid question..."

An awkward silence landed into the apartment. This only confirmed Alexandra who and what she was still dealing with. Time had healed her scars well and made her memories numb to the pain he had given her. He had killed her friends, nearly killed her sister as well... these memories haunted her even though they were paradoxical. With her last wish she had undone all that, but the memories stayed. The horror remained. And Nathaniel knew it. He stood up, yanking his jacket with him and headed towards the front door, without saying a word.

"What will happen to us?"

Alexandra did her damnedest to keep her voice intact. Realizing there was very little she could do to help humankind any more, she at least wanted to know what would the Djinn bring with them. She felt Nathaniel's ice cold staring all the way in her bones, his eyes boring their way to the back of her skull.

"That is up to you."

It was the only clue he gave before heading outside, disappearing into the morning mist. Alexandra kept gasping for air, biting her lip not to burst into tears. Catching the last glimpse of Nathaniel's leather jacket before he became one with the mist, she finally gave in to the pain she felt. Collapsing on the couch where Nathaniel had slept, Alexandra cried the first time for a long, long time. What she did not know is that during the few days the prophecy had bound them together, the bond had become strong and intense, not fading away even during the near decade they had been separate. Nathaniel felt her sorrow without tuning in to listen. It was a sensation he found very uncomfortable. A sensation strong enough to make him stop in his tracks, turn around once more to look at where he had come from. He understood. Naturally she was concerned of the survival of her own kind, and it was normal to her kind to fear the unknown that usually fascinated the Djinn.

Part of him wished he could go back, embrace her and tell her he would make sure nothing happened to her. The rest of him knew he could do so, but it would be corruptive to his nature. Eventually deciding against it he continued his journey to go find Toshiro before it would be too late.

Dawn had not yet arrived when the young Djinn shook himself awake again. He didn't enjoy falling asleep, at least not until he had succeeded in his mission. Falling asleep meant vulnerability; the Crusaders, especially the archangels, would have a good chance in sneaking up and destroying either him and/or the Angelika. He felt her warm breath on his chest; she had turned around in her sleep, now facing him and resting her head on his arm. Most likely without her realizing it.

The young Djinn rose up, careful enough not to awake Angelika who was still dreaming. He wore his garments again and shook off his true nature before opening the window for his morning cigarette, so any random passer-bys wouldn't be freaked out by his diabolical true form. Angelika woke up because of the draft, instinctively wrapping herself into the quilt, only to realize she was alone in the bed. She wanted to find him, feel the security he gave her, regardless of what he was, but upon opening her mouth she found no name to call out. No title to address. Nothing she would say before him.

She sat up, the quilt still held tight to cover her breasts, to the lonely darkness that had followed her ever since she regained consciousness after getting hit. There was absolutely nothing she saw – no forms, no colourful fog, not even faintest hints about her surroundings. Toshiro looked at her from the windowsill, tossed his cigarette away and closed the window. Angelika heard the window creak slightly and press against its frames when it was closed, and heard Toshiro approaching the bed. He sat down next to her, reading every slight nonverbal message her body might send to him to foretell her actions and thoughts. She had become an open book to him; it wasn't hard for him to tell the controversy that dwelt inside her. No matter how much a demon he was, no matter how he sought to overthrow the humanity and take over this world, she felt safe around him. He had been the only being for a decade that had been nice to her, had actually protected her from harm, though it was now clear to Angelika that he had done so only because he would benefit of it. Did it also mean that the only reason he cared of her was because of he needed to pull three wishes out of her? Then what? Would she end up alone and abandoned again?

Most likely, she figured. Just like when she was a mere four months old. Her mother had abandoned her in a trash bin, where a passer-by had found her and delivered her into a Christian orphanage. She knew everything about being alone and abandoned, even more so now when she had found out that the god she had been taught to serve had abandoned her too, among everyone else who still had faith. It was now up to her to prevent the apocalypse – but she was no longer sure if she could. She didn't even know what she had wished.

Neither one said a word that morning. Toshiro helped her to dress up again and escorted her out. When on the streets, he held her very close to himself, not only to guide her step but to ensure he could throw her aside if a fight occurred. Indeed, the very moment he had stepped into the misty morning air he could swear they were followed. Two – no, three pairs of footsteps echoed behind them. Whether it was intentional or not, that Toshiro couldn't say. If the were Crusaders they should've already taken enough Djinn apart to realize they had excellent hearing. He took Angelika to an alleyway – he couldn't risk fighting out on public again, getting every demon hunter who hadn't seen him yet on his tail. Angelika hadn't heard their followers. She was surprised to have herself suddenly yanked off the main streets and into the alleyways, but before she could ask, she felt Toshiro's hand over her mouth. "We are being followed," he said just loudly enough so she could hear him. He pushed her further down the alleyway and drew out Murasame from its faithful resting place. The followers' shadows were cast on the opposing wall, giving out their typical weaponry; tire iron, baseball bat and a Saturday night special - a thirty-eight. Peashooter, but a direct hit would sting like hell.

When the thugs stepped around the corner, they stopped on the sight of Toshiro and Murasame. One of them reached for his radio phone, confirming to "base" that the "targets" had been found near the Newcastle Ground motel. Crusaders, Toshiro spat in his mind. He despised them like plaque. Lunging into action before the thugs even had a chance to raise their weapons, Murasame sliced one of them neatly in two from the middle, continuing its path through the second one's neck. Instinctively the third one raised the thirty-eight and fired, hitting Toshiro in the chest. He grimaced of the sudden pain that a close hit of a thirty-eight gave, still not stopping. Murasame sliced the thug's weapon hand off, soon followed by the other hand, until finally the whole thug was vertically chopped in half, upwards. Toshiro swung the sword sharply to the side, throwing majority of the blood off its blade and sheathed it. He turned around to look at Angelika, only to find her gone. Scared of the killing noises, she had followed the alley walls further into their maze in such a hurry that she had tripped over several cardboard boxes and other random obstacles.

To Angelika, it was all wandering in the dark, only the feeling of the concrete wall guiding her, She couldn't use her hearing yet to find her way around, especially when she wasn't even fully aware of her whereabouts. She tried to follow the noise of the cars to find her way back to the main streets, finally succeeding. The quiet morning traffic had been enough for her to follow their sound. Her victory was rather short-lived, or rather non-existent. Before she could take a step forward or even think about where to head, she felt being pulled back to the alleyway, a rough hand over her mouth and her wrists held tight together with another. It wasn't Toshiro; this one seemed bigger, more robust and adult. Whoever he was, he was taking her right back to where she had come from.

Toshiro was kicking himself mentally in the head for letting Angelika escape. He ran along the alleyways, trying to follow her scent and fallen obstacles, finally arriving to the main street himself to only lose the trace. He sighed – well, this day began extraordinarily well!

Suddenly, a dark voice came from behind him. "First rule to victory, son – don't let your waker escape."

Turning to look, Toshiro sighed in relief. "You're a life-saver, father."

Nathaniel released Angelika from his grip. She didn't even try and go anywhere any more, knowing full well it would result in being caught once again. Especially if she now had two of these... these... Djinn... to watch her. She sheepishly pressed her head down, expecting a punch on her face at the very least. Instead, she felt Toshiro pulling her rather softly near him. "How did you get through to this world, father?" Toshiro inquired, believing it was impossible for a Djinn to break through from the barriers of the void. Nathaniel said nothing for a while – a response enough for Toshiro. He was right, this was not the time nor place for chat. "We need to find a place to hide, until things settle down," Nathaniel cut the silence short. "Demon hunters are gathering as we speak. An ill omen that should be heeded; the streets are no longer safe for us."

"I have noticed the latter," Toshiro agreed. "The archangel Raphael himself has taken interest in slaying both her and me. Not necessarily in that order."

"That I already know," Nathaniel replied, taking Angelika's head to his grip. She felt him pull her eyelids slightly upwards, examining her eyes that could no longer see. His breath was warm and smelt lightly of smoke as he spoke. "I saw what happened," he continued. "Brave individual, this human. Or very stupid. It is sometimes hard to tell the difference."

He let go of her head and looked straight into Toshiro's eyes. "Even with immortals."

Toshiro knew he deserved this scolding. He would be the first one to tell himself off for foolish bravery, but often he merely failed to see any other option. Unlike his father, he lacked the creativity that the Djinn only achieved through experience. He wasn't even sure if he'd ever get that far; the feudal Japanese philosophy had directed his thoughts to follow different routes than the rest of his kind.

Nathaniel led Toshiro and Angelika away from the Cursaders' town area, to the forest where Toshiro had hailed him not long ago. It was a relatively safe terrain; no Crusader would guess to seek demons from woodland area, at least not the Djinn. They had moved around mainly in ancient Persia and later on Iran where such areas were non-existent. Toshiro washed away the splattered blood from his face in a nearby stream while Nathaniel quickly scouted the area for hazards. Upon his return, he found the young Djinn standing next to Angelika, who had sat down at the roots of a tree. Neither one said anything – he because he had nothing to say and she because she was too afraid to give voice to her thoughts. She felt like a leaf in a river; all she could do was to go where the currents took her. The two Djinn were too strong and determined. They would take what they wanted and if she was lucky, they might let her go afterwards.

But what on Earth had she wished for? She could remember blurting out her want to be able to sleep well, and she could recall asking him to stay the night in her dorm room with her, but... no matter how deep she reached into her memories, she couldn't find the third wish. And she was afraid to ask him about it. Just as afraid he was when he thought of talking about it. Angelika would never ever love his true self. Not after all that had happened. Even if she no longer believed in the lies of mortal religions, it would be her own morality that would stand in the way.

Still, he'd have to try.


	13. The Stage is Set

Wishmaster: Exodus

Wishmaster © Live Film and Mediaworks, Inc.

Wishmaster II: Evil Never Dies © Artisan International, Inc.

Story © Kogamitsu (that's me)

The Stage is Set

The two Djinn decided to wait until dusk. Then their time would begin.

The young Djinn lay on his stomach in the moist grass, his feelings varying from near-desperation to extreme frustration. Angelika sat under a tree, dozing off. The venom of the fire Raphael had used was still draining her energy, not that she could do anything else but sit and wait. Maybe – just maybe – if she ever heard the two Djinn snoring simultaneously, she could try and escape. Unfortunately for her, neither one of them snored – they weren't physically able to do so – or slept. Even if they'd doze off, it would only be from half a minute to a few minutes. Not even close time enough for her to disappear.

The Undying lay on his back, resting his head against a rock while toxic fumes escaped the lit cigarette that rested firmly between his black lips. His eyes stared at nothingness in the sky, the clouds drifting peacefully from one end to the other as he found his thoughts returning to Alexandra again and again. Even when he consciously concentrated on defeating the Crusaders, his thoughts did not obey him. He inhaled deep from the cigarette, and exhaled. It was more of a sigh.

"Must we?" the young Djinn inquired, knowing the question would only irritate his father the more. The matter had been discussed a thousand times already.

"Yes," The Undying replied sharply. "If we leave them organized and active, they will seek to overthrow us again. Their number being unknown, we cannot take the chance."

"The two of us can only do so much. Once our kingdom come, all our strength tenfold, they don't stand a chance. We are too powerful."

"Hrmph... you indeed are a physical warrior, yet your head drifts amongst those clouds. Their rebellion will not stand a direct attack, but they will share their knowledge of us with everyone that voluntarily is recruited – once we reign, we no longer count their numbers with our fingers."

The young Djinn turned over. "So where do we find them?"

"Hotel Sleepy Hollow."

The young Djinn turned his head backwards just enough to steal a glance at his father, even if his vision was upside down. The Undying put out his cigarette by squeezing the fire out with his fingers before tossing it into nothingness. "It was an 'Elysium' when it was built.," he explained. "Its original owners were enlightened mortals who made it a safe haven for immortals such as ourselves. No spells nor weapons were allowed in there, and it truly thrived. That is, until the Crusaders came to Newcastle, killed the founders and claimed the building as their base of action."

"There must be dozens of them in there!" the young Djinn exclaimed. "And you suppose us two can topple them all?

"No."

A silence landed. The Undying lit up another cigarette.

"Well?"

The smoke flowed out from a gap between his lips. "We only need to take out Raphael. They will scatter and won't bother us any more. Without an immortal leader, they no longer have the courage to stand up against us."

At the town centre, Alexandra had calmed down after destroying half a pack of cigarettes in record time. She had turned on the radio and the TV to distract her, but they seemed to work against her. Both of the gadgets were only spilling out bad news, the Earth being destroyed, thousands of people killed in war, diseases and famine, north and south poles melting in the global warming, corrupted politicians only gathering more blood money for themselves while the poor struggled to survive.

Was this worth fighting for?

Giving up, flipped open her laptop to browse whatever pages she found of the Djinn. She had thrown away all the sheets of paper she had received the first time she met Nathaniel, but luckily she found it all and even more online nowadays. Reading of apocalypse from the different views of different religions, she was surprised how many viewed it as not an end, but a new beginning. It was usually described as an "end of an era", from which a new world grows and new people help to shape it.

The controversy drove her gradually mad. That was just as Nathaniel had said – what happened to the humans had ALWAYS been up to themselves. Nothing had ever forced their course to anything. It was humans who created the two worst devils in the world, money and leadership. Humans had ruined everything themselves. No point in blaming the Djinn or any other race of the demons for their own mistakes.

It was as if the pieces of the puzzle had slowly come together. To the Djinn, majority of the humans were all the same. Stupid, ignorant, arrogant and greedy. Exactly the reason why they were able spill oceans of human blood without a second thought, yet they still understood the pain they inflict on humans. It was not psychopathic. It was loathing. And Alexandra had began to understand where it all had come from. To them, humans were the pampered and spoiled little siblings who receive everything that they had given their all to get. Whoever created this world viewed the Djinn as a bastard child who deserves nothing else but to die away.

Having made up her mind, Alexandra stood up and this time she prepared her departure better than the last time. She carefully switched everything off, wore her winter jacket and opened her mobile phone. She had a few received text messages, one from work reminding her off her new work schedule, one from her phone operator and one from a number her phone did not recognize. It only had "- 3 -" written in it, and the sender was "555 – 1066601". Alexandra did recognize two arrows directing to a figure of a heart, and the 666 in the number was a straightforward clue. All this time he had anticipated her actions with the same accuracy as almost a decade ago. A wide smile crept on Alexandra's lips, she headed out the door into the chilly air with the only clue that was a mere tingling sensation in her chest. But if the same sensation had led her to him earlier, it would do so now. She was sure.

It was so chilly that Angelika's breath was visible steam in the air. The Djinn weren't too bothered, their thick skin and hot blood kept them warm even when humans began freezing to death. The young Djinn laid the jacket his human form carried on Angelika's shoulders, who reacted with a silent moan. "Fast asleep," the young Djinn remarked.

"Her body is gathering strength," The Undying replied. "The innocent often foresee in the future, though they rarely realize it."

He cocked his head to the side. "I hope it has something to do with her last wish."

The young Djinn swallowed loudly. His father knew?

"You are in great peril with her," The Undying said as if he had declared a death sentence over his son. "No Djinn has ever been able to grant such a wish. Few have tried, all have died."

"What could make a beauty be drawn to the beast?" the young Djinn asked. "Human love must be given freely or it is worth nothing. It's like a trap – a wish only she can grant herself."

The Undying nodded. He had never told anyone, but he had pondered it himself for a bit less than a decade now. How could a Djinn get a human to fall in love with him? It seemed like an impossible mission, but he had created a theory that he had put to test this very day. His theory was just to love – and hope to be loved in return. As futile as it was, it seemed a lot more sensible way than forced closeness or promises of the moon and the stars. He shared his theory with his son, without the mention of him testing it himself at the moment. A slight spark of hope appeared in the young Djinn's heart as he gently ran his claws through Angelika's soft hair, whispering out her name. Her eyes opened, misty and unfocused to the eternal darkness around her, she felt Toshiro lifting her up on her feet and helping her to wear his trenchcoat properly. "It is time," he said, looking at Nathaniel who had stood up and ready to go. He nodded in agreement – they would find a safe spot for Angelika and then cause a hell in Hotel Sleepy Hollow.

They arrived in town as the first stars lit up in the sky. Reckoning it would be best to leave Angelika somewhere public but hidden, another hotel should do nicely. Since it was nighttime, a pair of guys with eerie presences and a little girl would arise suspicions, Nathaniel agreed to act drunk while Toshiro would be his driver – and Angelika, more or less ironically, his girl. Nathaniel leaned hard to the booking desk, grunting randomly at passers-by while Toshiro repeated the cash-or-charge trick. The clerk took a suspicious look at Nathaniel. "Excuse me, sir, but you look familiar... have I seen you before? Do you happen to be American?" he asked.

"Amerrrican!?" Nathaniel exclaimed, his 'r' sounding like a metal toolbox. "Dinnae eva call me Amerrrican! Yous English – what dee ya theenk, prrrek!?"

Angelika was surprised to hear such perfectly faked Scottish accent. The clerk apologized, explained briefly that an American burglar had been seen in Newcastle and that Nathaniel looked very much like the descriptive drawing they showed in TV last night. He handed over a key to a room and wished them good evening. After Nathaniel was sure they were out of sight, he began walking straight again. They escorted Angelika to the room provided and made sure all windows and doors were locked from inside. The young Djinn sat Angelika on the bed and knelt down in front of her. "We are doing this for your safety," he said, cupping her cheeks in his hands. Angelika shook uncontrollably. Fear had always got the best of her. Fighting the panic and the tears, she nodded hesitantly reaching her hands carefully towards this strange creature that kept saving her life. He directed her hands at his face, allowing her to study his appearance with her sense of touch. Her fingers found the two tentacle-like horns coming out his head and curving down in the back, his elongated ears and curved thorns and grew from his shoulders. Nothing seemed to startle her, though.

It was now more clear than ever that he wasn't a human. He truly was a demon, a Djinn, like he had said, but he had proven to have a bigger heart than the humans Angelika has met through her life. How could a religion committed to loving thy neighbour brand these creatures evil and bloodthirsty? His expression of them having a bent sense of humour sounded more truthful than the old stories about ancient malice driving them.

The Undying watched his son with a slight sense of enviousness in his veins, but more with joy than anger. Even though they needed to hurry, he wouldn't cut this scene short. It might prove to be crucial part of the theory he came up with and separating them now might prevent the third wish from ever granting. He just crossed his arms around his chest and waited. He was known of his patience.

The young Djinn caressed Angelika's cheek. "We need to move out now," he said as softly as his hellish voice physically allowed. "But we will come back. I promise."

"W...whe...where are you g-going?" Angelika stuttered.

"We are clearing path for a better dawn," The Undying replied from the door. "You stay here, away from the windows and keep the door closed even if the prime minister himself came a-knocking. Do you understand?"

Angelika nodded. She felt a draft when the door opened, Toshiro and Nathaniel stepped out and locked the door after them. Air grew slightly colder and a strange hollowness began eating her from within. Figuring out she had nothing else to do, she decided to have a nice, long bath and maybe see if there was something on the telly she could... well, listen. After a moment's search, she found the bathroom and the tub. It took her a while longer to find the plug, but eventually she had the tub filled with warm water. She discarded all her clothing on the floor right next to the tub and hopped in.

She didn't know how long she had been in the tub. Dozing off or even slightly asleep, she suddenly jumped up. She could've sworn she heard something from the room. There was no certainty of what she had heard, but the feeling was enough to drive her out of the tub. She wrapped a towel around her and stepped out from the bathroom into a draft that proved that there was a window open. Puzzled, Angelika approached the draft to close the window, being rather sure the windows were closed when she went into the bath. After studying the frames with her hands, she finally found a way to close it and pull down the curtains. The movements of her arms caused her towel to fall, but being sure she was alone she paid very little attention to it. She did, however, admit to herself that she was rather spooked. She decided to drain the tub and wear a bath robe for now. But as she stepped out from the bathroom again, she felt another draft. It seemed to come from everywhere; the room felt cold and dry everywhere without any apparent source.

There was something suspiciously familiar about the eerie presence. Though very different from the aura the Djinn grew around them, it felt most certainly of immortal origin. Angelika began heaving as she realized that she was not alone in the room. Desperately gasping for air, she felt the freezing blade of Raphael's grand sword pressing firmly against her throat while Raphael himself crept up from behind her. He ran his arm under her bathrobe, getting a good feeling of her tender features. His warm breath burned her neck, but she couldn't force herself to move, let alone struggle against him. She heard him chuckle. "I now understand what he sees in you," he growled softly.

"What do you want?" even Angelika was surprised she managed to form a sentence without stuttering. Without giving an answer, Raphael grabbed her by her head and struck her head to the brick wall, knocking her out cold. Just as swiftly he picked her up and disappeared into the cold night.


	14. Memento Mori

Wishmaster: Exodus

Wishmaster © Live Film and Mediaworks, Inc.

Wishmaster II: Evil Never Dies © Artisan International, Inc.

Story © Kogamitsu (that's me)

Memento Mori

When Angelika came to, she had a good idea what a good hangover might feel like. Her head was near splitting in two, she felt and was sick a couple of times and her tongue felt dry and swollen. The crusaders had given her an alcohol poisoning, hoping to inflict it on the young Djinn through their mental bond.

They had hardly reached the lobby of the Hotel Sleepy Hollow when Toshiro felt it. He threw himself into a corner and threw up whatever had been in his acidic stomach. Alerted, Nathaniel helped him up. "Angel!" Toshiro gasped. "It's Angel! They've got her."

"The more the reason to hurry," Nathaniel declared swiftly and tried to pull his son back on his feet..

"No, wait...! I – I can't..."

He let out another load. Nathaniel shook his head and let out the deepest sigh ever heard on the face of this planet. "Thankfully it seems nothing worse than an alcohol poisoning," he remarked. "But do tell – is your bond truly that intense?"

Stooping up on one knee, Toshiro placed the side of his right hand into his mouth and bit. He bit until his black blood began dripping on the floor. Concentrating fully on the real pain, he was able to ignore the astral suffering. After a while he was able to stand up and carry on. He drew out Murasame and rested in on his shoulder. The two of them disappeared into the stairway of the Hotel Sleepy Hollow that once had served them as a sanctuary. Now it was closer to a slaughterhouse – or at least that was what they were intending to make it.

Angelika turned over on the cell floor she was lying. She heard screams so full of agony and despair that momentarily she was certain she had gone straight to Hell, but upon hearing Raphael's monotonic voice she began to realize what had happened. Turning once more to find a comfortable position, she couldn't but listen to the cries that came quite near from her.

"Tell me!" one of the Crusaders shouted. "Who was that bigger Djinn we saw!? He was no regular cannonfodder of yours, he took out a whole unit of ours without breaking a sweat!"

"C... could be anyone," the weak voice replied. "It doesn't take much to trample you mortals into pavement."

A mistake. Whatever it was that he was tortured with got him screaming. Angelika cringed, almost feeling the pain he suffered. Finally the screams fell silent, only to start again with greater force. This time Angelika sprung up on her knees, facing the general direction of the voice. "Stop that!" she screamed. "Please, stop! Don't...!"

She reached her hand out, meeting metal bars that isolated her from the rest of the room. The torturer stole a loathing glance at her and grunted in frustration. "You got lucky this time, demon," he spat, and threw him into the same cell with Angelika. She heard the soft thud his body made when he hit the hard stone floor right next to her. He was heaving, gasping for air among uncontrollable coughing. Angelika reached out until she felt him. "Are... are you alright?"

"I've been better," the Djinn said. "Yet I'd be worse if you hadn't stopped him."

He tried to get up, resulting only in him falling nearly over Angelika. Not really knowing what to do, Angelika allowed him to rest on her arms. He felt very different from the young Djinn she had felt in the motel room; this one was smaller, rather skinny... though it could all be the consequences of the torturing he had endured. "Wh... what have they done to you?" she gasped. He was so lightweight.

"Nothing you'd like to hear," the Djinn replied. His voice was worn and tired, it was obvious to even Angelika that he was living through his final moments. Neither one said anything for a while, until the Djinn suddenly spoke. "Are you... are you the warrior's waker?" he asked.

"Yes..." Angelika confessed. That instant she felt the Djinn's hand on her shoulder as he raised himself closer to her face. "Please...!" he said, his voice hardly louder than a whisper any more. "You... you've got to help us... The Crusaders, they... they will capture each one of us. They won't stop until we are all tortured to death! And most likely then they'll find another race to make extinct. You... you are the only one who can save us."

"But... but I don't... I don't know what..."

"Listen – forget the bullshit the religions give you. We are not evil. Fuck, there IS NO such thing as evil. Only different points of view. We are not honourless slaughterers, we do kill when we have to but we don't kill mindlessly. Only those who stand in our way and deserve it. The Crusaders, they... I bet they have tried to kill you too."

Angelika nodded. That was true. The more she observed the Crusaders' actions the more she felt sympathy for the Djinn. At least now when one of them was right there, in her arms, dying. It burnt her to realize she had once served faithfully the god that had indeed created this world, but also turned his back on it and turned it into a hunting ground. These thinking, feeling beings were tortured here, only because they had fought for their right. She felt a tear running down her cheek and falling off her face, undoubtedly landing on the Djinn, who moved slightly when he felt a warm drop on his scarred stomach. And a second one. And third.

"You... you are crying, for us? For me?"

Angelika couldn't speak. She sobbed like the little girl she was, giving her all to endure the sorrow inside her. Once more the Djinn reached up, pulling her body closer to him into a warm embrace. He squeezed, almost too hard. Just as he felt his life draining out from his body, he whispered:

"Th... that was the most... most beautiful thing... you could've given me."

His hold loosened gradually, and his lifeless body slid onto the ground from Angelika's arms. She found it no longer in herself to control the bottomless sorrow, and she burst into tears hysterically. She cried over the dead body of the poor Djinn that met the most terrible death she could have ever imagined. She couldn't stop crying even when the guards came to pick up the body and kicked her in the head to silence her. The impact fractured her nose and tore open the corner of her eye, also messing up her sense of balance and direction. She carried on sobbing, lying in her own blood on the cold floor, wondering if her life would end here too.

Meanwhile Alexandra bit her lip in frustration. She had been wandering the streets for hours without so much as a clue where she could go any more. The sensation was gone, as if The Undying would be blocking his eerie presence to hide himself. Little did Alexandra know how close she was; she was staring at the Hotel Sleepy Hollow, just like she was being stared at from the shadows. In a swift, single move, an unseen force pulled her into the alley next to the hotel, and threw her on the ground. Even though she was quick to get up and face her opponents, her speed wasn't enough this time. The same force, this time in the form of a shaded man, pulled her off the ground and pinned her against the wall. He was not of this world; not even a sharp kick in the groin moved him. Alexandra struggled all in vain. The man took a few careful sniffs around her neck, then backing off just enough to see her face. "You reek of the Djinn," he growled, the voice like an avalanche. Saying nothing more, he threw her over his shoulder, ignored the constant punches and kicks he received and carried her to the penthouse of the hotel.

Raphael's sword reflected the gentle light coming from the chandeliers on the ceiling, yearning to taste the blood of the Djinn. An awkward silence had landed on the people in the penthouse, triggered by an unexpected decision Raphael had made. His minions stared at him, confused to heck, almost bewildered. But Raphael was still and silent, staring at his reflection from the polished blade of his sword.

"C'mon man, are you being serious?"

The archangel found his minions' street language despicable, but decided against taking actions. Instead, he sheathed his sword in all the confidence and faced his people. "Yes, I am being serious. You. Bring me the girl."

The thug shrugged slightly and left the penthouse, while his friends still struggled to understand the patterns Raphael was thinking in. "There's no way it can work," one of them finally dared to say. "Do you really think you'd get her to trust you any more? I mean seriously, you tried to kill her."

"All for the good of mankind, oh ye of little faith," Raphael sighed. "It doesn't matter if she trusts me or not, as long as her faith in the Djinn crumbles."

Soon the doors flew open, but instead of the thug that went to get Angelika, the man in the alleyway stepped inside and threw Alexandra on the floor. "She was snooping in front of the building," the man growled. Alexandra held her aching backside and muttered silent curses under her breath at the goon. Raphael looked at her, despising to see these filthy mortals even if they were on all fours in front of him. "And this is...?"

"She reeks of the elder Djinn."

"Fascinating..."

Alexandra stood up, straightening her clothes and re-doing her ponytail that had suffered slightly during her struggle. "I see," Raphael smirked. "She must be a former waker. Very interesting to meet those who have managed to defeat the Djinn."

"Uh-huh, and who you might be?" she spat, unimpressed. The minions were ready to knock her down for such arrogance, but Raphael signed them to leave her be. "You've got courage, human," he said. "Or is it pure foolishness? You ought to show more respect for an archangel."

"...an archangel?" she wasn't sure if this jester was serious or not.

"I am Raphael, one of the seven angels of Apocalypse. I am here to keep this world free of the Djinn. Protect the humanity from them, if you will --"

"Why?"

Raphael was taken aback by Alexandra's question. It was direct, an undermining question only to crumble his credibility. She wasn't easily fooled, and she made it clear that very instant. Raphael knew his mind tricks wouldn't work on her, she was determined and loyal to the decision she made before leaving her apartment tonight. "An ally to the Djinn, you are..." Raphael muttered, unsheathing his sword. "I should behead you now, like the heretic you are. But I might have other use for you..."

The doors opened and closed, this time in came the thug that had Angelika with him. She was still wearing only the bathrobe from the motel, her face was slightly swollen because of the kick she had received and the corner of her eye was still bleeding. Alexandra didn't have to guess twice if this unfortunate soul was the waker of The Undying's son or not. "Ah, excellent," Raphael smiled. "Please, escort this traitor into a cell, and bring Ms. Angelika to me."

A goon grabbed Alexandra by her arm and pulled her towards the door. In the last moment, Alexandra grabbed Angelika with her only free hand and whispered something in her ear before getting pulled violently out of the room.

Raphael took a good look at Angelika. "My, my... where are my manners?" he declared, theatrically enough to sound like something out of ancient Greek plays. "Bring me a person qualified in healing injuries such as hers, and get some fresh clothes. Only the best for my guest."

Angelika shook her head in disbelief – a guest!? Try 'a kidnapped'.

After a moment, Angelika was wearing a royal white silk gown, her hair was combed and done neatly, her front hair that usually hid her face had been braided and tied together at the back of her head. The wound in the corner of her eye had been taken care of, and now she was sipping warm, delicious soup that she was given. "I truly must apologize my irrational behaviour earlier," Raphael's voice carried out from somewhere in the room. "It is sometimes difficult to guard the innocent while fighting the evil, you do understand, do you not?"

"I... I guess..." she couldn't think of anything else to say. Upsetting Raphael was the least she wanted, at least when she was now out of that dirty, cold cell room and had felt comfortable. Footsteps echoed in the room, telling her her was moving around, not far from her. "I was wondering, if you'd happen to know..." he sat down on the couch, next to her. "Who is the elder Djinn the young one goes around with? Any idea at all?"

Angelika wasn't sure. He was the father to the young Djinn, he seemed experienced and wise... almost as if some ancient wisdom had been bestowed upon him. But that was enough for Raphael, who stood up in a slight shock. Could it really be...?

"Originally, there were only seven Djinn," Raphael told her. "I myself destroyed the first of them, and three others, while my brothers have defeated two of the original seven... if the last one is still alive, he'd be undoubtedly the most powerful Djinn to ever exist."

The tone of his voice darkened. "There have been stories, rumours of this seventh Djinn. They have dubbed him 'The Undying' for his unnerving habit of refusing to die. Legend has it that he has a son, who also differs from the rest of their kind. A physical warrior. If what you just told me is true, everything is in grave peril, for the elder Djinn would be The Undying himself. He has slain more angels in his lifetime than any other demon."

His footsteps echoed from further and further away. "This will call for precautions. We don't have much time, they are already in this building. Go secure the front lines, and make sure they do not get to the higher floors. Understood?"

His minions left the penthouse. Raphael came back to Angelika, for only a brief time. "The Djinn are evil liars," he said. "They have poisoned your mind with their false truths and disbelief. Stay strong in your faith, Angelika. We can still save the earth."

He caressed her hair gently. "I will gather guards to see you are safe in here. They cannot get to you any more, I promise."

With that, he, too left the penthouse. Angelika heard some guards assembling at the doors, mumbling to themselves. A sorrowful sight escaped her lips, the controversy pulling her apart now more than ever. Whom should she believe, then? The archangel, or the Djinn? Her heart or her beliefs? The historical Bible or the Djinn that died in her arms?

But on top of all that, the words Alexandra whispered to her ear just before she was taken away kept haunting her mind.

"_Know your opponent._"

What did she mean?


	15. Penultimate Round

Wishmaster: Exodus

Wishmaster © Live Film and Mediaworks, Inc.

Wishmaster II: Evil Never Dies © Artisan International, Inc.

Story © Kogamitsu (that's me)

Penultimate Round

The Undying had lost the count of casualties on the first floor of Hotel Sleepy Hollow, and every hallway they arrived to, every room they raided offered more and more resistance. The side of his face felt as if it had been on fire by the blast from a shotgun he suffered not long ago. He swore there was a pellet stuck in his eye; his vision was slightly blurred and he couldn't blink without a sharp pain.

The young Djinn wasn't doing much better, though he hadn't suffered as much damage as his father. For this he remained thankful to his Murasame and a few brief, tactical withdraws, even when The Undying just kept going. He did admire his father and what he was capable of doing using only his bare hands. He walked like the Grim Reaper among the hallways, everything he touched died without a chance. He had been stabbed, shot and beaten to bruises but he didn't seem to give a damn – once more he had shown people why he was called The Undying.

Suddenly the hallways were abandoned. The thugs, the swordsmen and fire-armed soldiers scattered away like roaches, disappearing into higher floors like rats leaving the sinking ship. Only the two Djinn were left standing in the ruins of what had once been a cosy hotel floor, their thick, black blood dripping on the floor while they both tensed their senses in their maximum to pick up any signs of danger before it would be too late. The small moment felt like a small eternity; nothing stirred, the Djinn held their breaths... the silence was overwhelming.

But nothing came. There was only silence.

The idea of sheathing Murasame still never crossed the young Djinn's mind. He took a brief look around for ambushes while The Undying occupied himself with his current problem of having a pellet stuck in his eye. It seemed to have gone surprisingly deep into his skull, forcing him eventually cutting the side of his eye open with his claw and digging it out manually. A sight that even made the young Djinn's stomach twitch with uneasiness; his claws where more than halfway inside his eye socket before they came out with the pellet, coated with blood and a broken nerve still hanging from it. As soon as the prophecy would be fulfilled, The Undying would restore his partially damaged eyesight.

Without trading a word, the two of them carried on with extra caution, finding only empty hallways and empty rooms. The Undying did sense someone's presence, but there was something in the atmosphere, something in this whole building that weakened the astral signals. It felt like walking in a mist; he could easily see his surroundings and sense what was within the reach of his eyes, but beyond that it all became foggy and unclear. As he walked, a floor board gave a slight creak and immediately after it, there was an audible gasp from the other side of the wall, to his left. He signed his son to stay back, as he ran his claws down the wall, hearing the hollow echo that it made and a familiar voice that followed.

"Somebody there? Let me out of here!"

Without a moment of hesitation, The Undying forced his way through the wall, bits and pieces of bricks and dust flowing about, momentarily obstructing the view from the hallway to the small dungeon where Alexandra jumped on her feet at the loud crash. As the dust settled, her eyes met those of The Undying and widened slightly when fresh(er) air filled her lungs instead of the dust in the small cell she had been put in. She had found out just now she suffered of minor claustrophobia and felt more than grateful to be out of such tiny space. Stumbling out, she leaned on a wall when back in the hallway, heaving for air while swearing she'll get even. Patting the slightly confused Undying on his arm, she muttered a 'thanks' while the young Djinn stole a glance at the stairway nearby. "And what are you doing here?" The Undying inquired from Alexandra, interrupting himself just as he finished; "No. Don't bother. I'll ask you again later. You should get out of here."

"What, and let those bastards get away with this?" she snapped. "Nuh-uh. I'll wipe that smirk out of that lunatic's face!"

The young Djinn peeked around the corner at the stairway. "Seems all clear, where the fuck they took off to?" he wondered.

The Undying knew full well where they had gone. It wasn't the first time he was facing an archangel, he knew what was going through their minds. Raphael must've hailed all his minions to the penthouse, to strengthen the defence and make sure they wouldn't get their hands on Angelika again. It was also likely, he thought, that Raphael might try to talk Angelika back on his side. It was just like the archangels to poison the minds of the fragile to gain use of them. Even when comparing them to the gore he had caused himself, he couldn't help but feel disgusted – at least he was being straight with his targets.

"You don't think... they'd be all in the penthouse?" a distinct tone of worrying was clearly audible in the young Djinn's voice. He bit his dark lip; only the thought of having to face all the thugs and ghouls of Raphael gave him a mental ache. There was no way they could take on the lot of them at the same time. That would've been pure madness.

No one welcomed the awkward silence that took over the hallway. Only a few sighs and creaking of the old, wooden floor broke it occasionally. The Undying was wrecking his brains, trying to find the most reasonable way to approach the situation. Charging in would be a suicide and Raphael wouldn't come out of his cosy fortress even if The Undying would call out to him, "Thousands of Djinn are fornicating with nuns in public!"...

To be honest with himself, he wouldn't either. He would've hated to see his race sink so low. But it did provide him with an idea.

"We'll use his pride to bring him down," he said. "The archangels will never turn down a duel, and in their pride, they refuse to admit their defeat by calling for backup."

At that instant, the young Djinn sheathed his sword, his sharp movements leaving very little to imagination whether he agreed or not. Refusing to even look at his father, he spat and growled: "Have you lost your bleeding mind? That accursed angel doesn't need backup! You can hardly see with your left eye, and I'm glad if he'll break sweat before removing my head from my shoulders. And even if ,by some bloody miracle, we had the chance of defeating him, he's bound to take Angel with him."

Before the young Djinn realized what happened, he felt being thrown backwards by a force so immense it must've been from immortal hand. Landing on his back and quickly rolling back on his feet, he hardly believed his eyes when he saw The Undying now standing where he had previously been, his hand still erected forward and stance firm enough to take any revenge he might had in mind. He just stared at his son – only for a few moments, but it felt like a small eternity – before lowering his hand and regaining normal posture. "I couldn't care less of your calculations for odds, foolish boy," he growled, the voice coming straight from the deepest hell. "If you are not willing to take part in slaying the hypocrite, stay the hell out of my way. I am not going to wait for you."

Unlike the rest of his kind, the young Djinn was able to swallow his pride and show humility. Merely nodding in response, he allowed his father to lead the way to the penthouse, never lifting his eyes from the ground. The higher the stairs led him, the more he sensed his waker's presence, her thoughts, her feelings, her desires... The scents of anxiety and fear became stronger by every step, the walls echoed with her thoughts, her silent prayer to be saved. She had crossed her hands and turned her head down, leading Raphael, who still guarded her with his arms around her, to think she was praying to his god. Instead, Angelika gave her all to reach the young Djinn, to plea for help before Raphael would sharpen his sword for her neck.

She wanted to be saved, and it was fine. If that is what she wanted, that she would get – the young Djinn felt his heart beat faster, his muscles preparing for one, last push. The Undying felt the same. Whatever would the dawn bring, he wouldn't have to push his limits any more. Life or death, it wouldn't matter. He knew he could rest soon. Eternally or momentarily, it would be all up to greater factors than him.

And Raphael waited. He had felt them come, fight and follow his bait. There were no chances that he would lose. Once the two Djinn and the elder Djinn's blood doll were executed, the young girl would make a fine slave of faith, taking care of his needs believing she would be the next Virgin Mary.

Yes, it was all perfect.

--

KGM: Apologies for the long break, I have had other businesses to attend to... :) I promise to finish this story as soon as I can. Thank you all for reading and reviewing, and having so much patience for me!


	16. Hell at Hotel

Wishmaster: Exodus

Wishmaster © Live Film and Mediaworks, Inc.

Wishmaster II: Evil Never Dies © Artisan International, Inc.

Story © Kogamitsu (that's me

Hell at Hotel

Raphael measured the trio from head to toe, smelling a rat in the situation. They were making it all a bit too easy, weren't they... Waltzing into the penthouse, giving up their weapons, _wanting_ to have a word with him – how unusual of the Djinn. What in the god's hallowed name could they have in their minds? And who exactly was that elder Djinn, everything seemed so familiar in him... so familiar, but so distant. Raphael swore he had met that defiance before. That stubborn defiance, simple refusing to do what is wanted. Could it be...?

"Speak then, demon." Raphael's camp, monotonic voice had been amusing in the beginning, but now it brought shivers down Angelika's spine. She began to be sick of not being able to control the situation, let alone being tossed from one side to another like a tennis ball. And quite the opposite of Raphael's imagination, his domination had had no effect. Fair enough, she wanted this battle to end as soon as possible and as painlessly as well, but she still wasn't sure which side to pick. Either way, the chances of her walking away happily in the end were minute, even non-existent. If she kept to her own side, she would definitely have her head removed, but choosing one side over another would result in her being the first in line to get killed.

The Undying stepped forward, head high and back straightened. "The war has raged on long enough, Raphael," he growled. "This earth can no longer be our battleground. We are going to settle this right here, and right now."

"Unfortunately, demon, I am the one in charge here," Raphael snickered, his arm cuddling around Angelika. The young Djinn fought his urge to slaughter the archangel for touching his waker.

"Hmph, you angels. I suppose one humiliation indeed is enough even for you."

"What was that, demon?"

"Don't tell me you have forgotten me."

Raphael eyed him, this time with more care. "You...!"

"How are your wings, Raphael?"

The tension broke; Raphael lunged forward to the middle of the room, drawing the grand sword from its sheathe. "How dare you live to this day, Djinn!?" he roared, his voice no longer calm nor monotonic. His eyes burned with pure hatred, taking every human in the room aback, but The Undying remained unaffected. Instead, he felt Alexandra's hand gently grab his arm, seeking just enough reassurance to stay calm. Chuckling, he turned slightly at the worried woman; "He is responsible for imprisoning and most likely destroying the first Djinn, the father of us all. For that, I cut his wings off the last time we met, some centuries ago."

The shadows on Raphael's face grew darker, it became harder and harder to believe he was an angel. In an instant, he leaped at The Undying, who pushed Alexandra aside and barely evaded the blade of the grand sword, let alone the maniacal swings that split the air with sharp whistles. Instantly the young Djinn broke through the thugs, lunging at the table where Murasame was confiscated and throwing the sheathed sword at his father, hoping he would know how to use it.

As the Djinn frenzied, Alexandra sneaked aside the battle towards Angelika, kicking a few thugs in their vitals if they happened to be on her way. She admitted that it had become a bad habit, so to speak. Angelika had stood up, pressing herself against the far wall, wisely staying as far as she could from the noises of the fight. When near enough, Alexandra grabbed her by her shoulders, startling her. She tried breaking free from her grip, to no avail. "Calm down, Angel," Alexandra hushed.

"W-who are you?"

"I'm Alex. Do you remember me? We met a few hours ago."

Angelika recognized her voice. It was her who had granted her with enough doubt towards Raphael to not fall into his manipulation completely. Alexandra sounded so together, she was all grown-up, Angelika supposed. She didn't seem confused by the ongoing war at all, nor was she questioning the side she had picked. Everything seemed clear to her – Angelika couldn't help but admire her courage.

"Come, I'll help you outta here," Alexandra said, pulling Angelika up from the ground. She was slightly thrown off by her accent. "You're... not British? An American?" she asked, following wherever Alex was guiding her. "Yeah, I'm from America," she replied. "I've been living here, in Newcastle, for almost a decade now."

Alexandra led Angelika out from the penthouse, down the stairs, only to see some late thugs running at them from lower floors. Cursing her sore luck, Alexandra turned her party around and headed towards the roof, hoping to heck there would be a way out. She felt an irony in her thought, though – in all American action movies, there are usually ways down on the roofs. But this was England. No movie trick would work here. But betting on even minor chance was better than giving up and getting caught.

Reaching the roof and jamming the door behind her, Alexandra finally sighed in relief. Even if there wasn't a way down from there, at least they would be relatively safe. She did, however, fear that with all the thugs and Raphael concentrating on mere two Djinn, the odds of their survival wouldn't be near enough to put one's money on. But the Djinn were prepared, weren't they? If The Undying had already defeated the archangel once, why couldn't he do it now? The young Djinn could surely handle the humans by himself... couldn't he? The two of them seemed to be the bleeding Supermonstars.

Angelika was pondering the same questions herself, though she wasn't able to hide her insecurity as well as Alexandra could. The elder woman figured it was up to her to upkeep Angelika's feeling of security, just long enough so she can bring an end to this madness. "Hey, Angel, it's all right..." she said, laying her hand on her shoulder. "They can't get here, the door is jammed. We're safe."

"Why... why do you keep calling me that?"

"It's your name, isn't it?"

"I'm Angelika... who called me that?"

"The younger Djinn called you Angel. I thought that's what everyone calls you."

"He did, did he..." a glint of amusement briefly appeared in her being, only to wither away as quickly as it had appeared. A flock of hair fell over Angelika's face as she sighed, fighting the tears that took root a lot deeper than the previous few days. "They're not going to make it, are they?"

"Don't say that."

"The room was filled with people... they were armed... I heard metallic voices, like metal chains hitting metal bars. And that... archangel, Raphael, he..."

"Shush now," Alexandra interrupted sharply, poking Angelika softly on her nose. She didn't want to hear, one moment alone with that thought would have been enough to make her own stillness shatter and crumble from under her feet. That was not an option – not even a remote one.

Both Djinn knew it. Additionally, The Undying was aware that his life was less valuable than that of his son's. Should it come to that, he was ready to make the final sacrifice, though he hoped to heck he wouldn't have to, the ambition of seeing both the birth, the enslavement and the new freedom of his race drove him to push his limits, to use every source of strength to defeat Raphael once again. This time, for good. There would be no third round.

No matter how hard Raphael hit in his rage, Murasame endured every blow and sought its way to its target, managing to create only minor stab wounds and cuts on its enemy. Raphael was fast and extremely nimble, at least when compared to the massive Undying, who was lengthy even when compared to other Djinn. All of the seven original had exceeded their successors in both size and strength, Iblis the Corrupt having been the grande master. Raphael had re-captured him and hid him well from his descendants, and even though The Undying seemed small and fragile when compared to the father of all Djinn, he had proven to offer a lot more challenge to his celestial rivals. This, if something, drove Raphael to the edge of madness.

Raphael's human slaves fell one after another, some on the floor, some on the pavement many stories below them. The young Djinn fought against his favourite pray; unintelligent, untrained and scared fragile little people. Their blunt knives, metal chains, tire irons and Saturday night specials weren't near enough to bring him down at the start, but when he received the first shotgun blast to the head, he imagined he might be in slight trouble. It almost seemed as if the thugs were respawning in infinite numbers. The ones that flew out from the windows couldn't be coming back, the young Djinn had double-checked that possibility; twice had he peeked out from the window to count the increasing cadaver number on the streets below.

Where the heck did all these people come from? The young Djinn didn't have to look for an answer for long, in the corner of his eye he caught one rising up from the floor, like a living dead from its grave. These people weren't real – they were all Raphael's doing. He summoned more and more empty bodies as the old ones were destroyed. It explained the empty looks on their faces, the lack of painful screams and the endurance of the opponents. These were not humans – they were, matter-of-factly, dead to begin with. The young Djinn smirked in delight; the dead were rising from their graves. One of the many signs of their time to come. Only when their time draws near, the celestial entities would be desperate enough to recruit the recently deceased in their futile attempt.

A loud scream pierced the battleground air, suddenly silencing the fight and turning everyone to look at the source of the sound. Raphael lay on his knees, holding his cut throat and letting out such curses from his mouth it brought a minor blush even on the young Djinn's face. The Undying booted him on the ground, and ripped his blouse open with the tip of his son's blade, revealing two stumps of muscles that had once carried white wings before they were violently torn off. Seeing his chance of further humiliation, The Undying stabbed Murasame only half an inch under Raphael's skin and pulling it along his spine, cutting an upside-down cross on his back. "You are nothing but hypocrites, the lot of you," he cursed at the defeated archangel, his chest smarting of the blows he couldn't help but receive during the combat. "You poison the minds of the weak humans with your lies and empty promises, and for what? To amuse your sadistic minds? To make sure you have unquestioning sheep for allies and cattle?"

"And you claim you'd treat them better? Slaves prefer the master they know to the master they don't," Raphael spat his blood on the floor, laying a killing sight on the victor. "Even if you would win – which you won't – there will be always enough faith in people to overthrow your tyranny."

The Undying raised Murasame for coup de grâce. "The hell there will."

In the nick of time, Raphael possessed an undead behind the young Djinn. Its blunt teeth sunk into his neck and tore off a lump of flesh. The rest of its comrades awakened from their trance and followed its example, nearly forcing the young Djinn down onto the ground to be served as a dinner. Almost. Enraged by the sudden assault, the young Djinn tore the once-dead corpses apart, each strike accompanied by a roar that could stop the bravest men on their tracks and drop dead in fear. Though hopelessly outnumbered, he continued his fight like a rabid wolf, not caring much of the fact he was losing both flesh and skin at an alarming speed.

Instinctively The Undying joined in, booting Raphael in the head without noticing in his haste. The mindless undead proved to be of more hazard than meek-minded ones with peashooters and pieces of metal. Without a mind or a functional brain, they were numb to pain and joyously oblivious to the fact that they might have limbs missing. The sight was straight out of an 80's splatter movie.

But Raphael's lips curved into a smile of vengeance. Rising up from the floor, he praised his minions, "Yes... yes, my little soldiers... rise up and avenge yourselves." Certain of his victory, Raphael laughed at the sight, at the two Djinn. "You fools! By killing them all, you have killed none! They have returned to avenge their deaths, and you... you don't have that much strength left any more, have you?"

He barely dodged a severed, flying head that was aimed at his. Amused by this act of frustration, he laughed even more as he watched his two enemies sink under the waves of undead attacks; "I will send you back into the hideous hell where you have come from, and your waker will follow shortly after you."

Sending a piece of his consciousness all around the Hotel Sleepy Hollow, he easily sensed Angelika on the rooftop. She flinched at the sudden sense of cold, knowing all too well what the sensation meant. The fear took a tight hold of her, too tight for her to notice Alexandra near her. She had to ask three times before she was heard.

"Angelika, are you alright?"

She shivered. "He's... he's coming...!"

Her voice was hardly louder than a whisper. Alexandra looked briefly around, seeing no one in sight. The banging on the door had ceased, too. "Who is? What are you talking about?"

She hardly had finished her sentence when she was thrown to side. It happened too fast for her to realize what it was until she sat up again to have a look. There he stood, in torn garments and covered in his own blood, the archangel Raphael who had had just about enough of all this. Alexandra knew she would have to keep him as far away from Angelika as she could, but her assault only ended up in him grabbing her by her throat and lifting her off the floor. "You are very unwise, woman," he growled. "Why are you allying yourself with this hell-sent demons? Have you no shame, you wicked creature, you Jezebel!?"

"I only do what I feel is right," Alexandra replied, hanging from his wrist to keep herself from choking. "I don't need the lies you call religion to tell me what to do."

Without batting an eye, Raphael smashed her against the far wall, knocking her out cold before she hit the floor below her. Despite her blindness, Angelika felt his eyes turn to her now. "As for you..." his tone still far from priests' note. Angelika felt his footsteps draw closer every time, closing her eyes and lifted her palms together for her one, last prayer.

"_Please help me._"

--

KGM: I'd like to give huge thank-yous for my readers and reviewers, especially to Banquo'sGhost for the very, VERY kind review you made my day


	17. Coup de Grâce

Wishmaster: Exodus

Wishmaster © Live Film and Mediaworks, Inc.

Wishmaster II: Evil Never Dies © Artisan International, Inc.

Story © Kogamitsu (that's me)

Coup de Grâce

It was hard to keep track of the amount of the enemies any more. The thugs that had met their ends in the alleyways had crawled all the way to the penthouse, adding even more to the horrible army of undead that kept pressing on. There was no killing them – it was of no use to try and kill something already dead. Not even when The Undying split the head of the undead that was gnawing his arm seemed to make any difference to it. And with every passing second, a few more entered the battle, until the room was packed and the Djinn were cornered.

The young Djinn held his aching neck, thick, black blood running through his fingers. Murasame was now back in his hands, but as he had realized long time ago, it wasn't of use. He had beheaded his opponents more than heretics were ever during dark ages, but after he had seen a lone head slowly wandering towards him by only using its jaw, he had grudgingly sheathed the sword and turned to The Undying for help, knowing he wouldn't give up, not even when the odds were this much against him.

Indeed, even know his eyes scanned through the room, scaling options and finding any possible way to save whatever was left of their hides. It all seemed hopeless, until he caught the pale moonlight from outside in the corner of his eye. And when the adrenaline level of his blood was this high, for him to think was to act. He grabbed his son by one of the thorns that decorated the backs of their kind and pulled him along as he leaped head-first out from the high window of the penthouse. Just before it would've been too late. The undead poured out of the window in less than graceful formations, making a messy pile under the Djinn who hung from a surprisingly sturdy drainpipe. Now that their opponents had lost their targets, their empty shells were left lying around, ready to reanimate at the slightest sight of them.

The Undying hung for his own and his son's life. The young Djinn held on from his leg with only one hand; he wasn't able to lift his left arm high enough due to the deep bites and actually pieces that were missing from his shoulder. The two Djinn hanging in their true forms outside in the public was a definite Masquerade violation that did invite unwanted attention from mortals. The Undying kept climbing upwards, away from the ground floor lights and the mortals' camera lenses, though he knew that the Armageddon couldn't be tip-toed into this world. Something like this was bound to happen, and even though it was a good omen to the Djinn, both of them questioned the significance of these signs of new era. One slip of a grip and it'd be all over; they'd drop to the top of the pile of undead and would be quickly gnawed to pieces.

With the last ounce of his strength The Undying pulled them both on the rooftop and stopped for a moment to study the injuries he had received. It seemed that he had gotten away with only a few bites and scratches in addition to the cuts Raphael had inflicted earlier, but the young Djinn was already feeling weakened for the loss of blood and flesh. Though their bodies would heal themselves relatively quickly and they were able to shake off even aggravated damage instantly, the bites of the undead refused to stop bleeding.

The young Djinn's breath wheezed loudly.

"Stop that..." The Undying growled.

The wheezing continued.

"I said -"

"I heard you," the young Djinn managed to gasp. "It's not me, it's -"

The Undying didn't have to make many guesses if Raphael had got to Angelika and Alexandra before they did. He sprung up on his feet, taking quick glances around to find any clues where they might have gone. There was only the darkness of the night; not a single sign of the archangel. Either he was consciously shielding himself from the Djinns' senses, or he was long gone. But instead, he sensed something else – a scent of a mortal woman. Alexandra. She was somewhere near; near enough to be heard, if she would call out to him. But even when The Undying allowed his presence to be known, he sensed no change in the atmosphere. Either she was too concentrated on something else to block out his astral radiation, or she was unconscious.

"Wait here," he told his son before disappearing behind the roof sheds and ventilation pipes. Following the trail of scent she left behind, he finally found her lying next to a wall with a moderate-sized crack in it, like she had been hit hard towards it. He knelt down next to her, noticing immediately the head trauma she had suffered, but was relieved to hear her respond when he called her name. To avoid any further trauma, he quickly shook off his true form before she blinked her eyes open and began sitting up with his help.

"That son of a bitch..." she spat, holding her head that was about to split in half in pain. Momentarily she expected Nathaniel to ask if she was all right, but when the question remained unasked, she figured he wouldn't ask rhetoric questions – after all, it was obvious she wasn't. Such an inquiry would undoubtedly end up in an awkward silence and a stand-up comedian making his usual "Here's your sign" remark.

Paying her wandering thoughts no mind, she stood up from the ground despite the constant protests from her aching body. "Alexandra," said Nathaniel, surprisingly alerted in his tone. "Where is Angelika? Where did he take her?"

"I... I don't know," Alexandra replied, giving her damnedest to remember what had happened. "I... I got us in here, because the lower floors were packed with those people. I even jammed the door to keep us safe, but that... that... guy just appeared out of nowhere, tried to choke me and whacked me on the wall. After that... I don't..."

But there was something that she remembered. It came like a flash before her eyes; so clear and concrete she could almost see it in her eyes. "Wait... he took Angelika somewhere... threw her over his shoulder like a rag doll. Either she was unconscious or too scared to fight back. He seemed very angry at her."

As if it had been his cue, the young Djinn ran at the scene, his breath still wheezing slightly and neck still torn open. "Father – the archangel..." he stopped to catch his breath, though there was not much to chase for. After a few deep breaths, he pulled himself together and stood up in full length. Not even he wanted to seem weak in front of mortals. "A car just took off. Angel – she was in there, I swear."

"Where to?" The Undying asked, back in the more familiar body.

"North-east. If we hurry, we can catch it."

"Catch a car?" Alexandra chuckled. "You gonna outrun it? Impossible!"

"Nothing impossible about it," The Undying declared, as if it had been the most obvious truth. "Alexandra, may I... do I afford to ask for a favour?"

"Anything," she said. What's a question like that, anyway?

"Return to your apartment – do not worry, the undead will only attack us – and wait for us."

"What? That's it?"

"No. But the rest of your favour will depend on factors still unknown."

As The Undying turned to leave, Alexandra fought not to grab him by his arm and ask him to keep his word and come back alive. She watched the two Djinn leap off the roof and drop their true forms mid-air. Nathaniel landed down heavily on his knee, cracking the pavement below him, whereas Toshiro came down with a smooth breakfall, _ukemi_, otherwise silent, only the leather trenchcoat flapping quietly as he rolled back on his feet and ran after the aura the archangel left behind him. It was easier to follow than that of Angelika's.

The only thug Raphael still had left of his legion speeded on, heading out of Newcastle and to any place where there would me more Crusaders left. He was shook; the two Djinn had just destroyed the whole town-full of Crusaders, and as if that hadn't been too much already, he had seen his fallen comrades rise from the dead as flesh-eating zombies straight out of Romero's horror movies. Raphael was sitting in the back-seat with Angelika, constantly stealing glances backwards in fear of seeing the two Djinn chase after. He was tired and wounded, and too pissed off to fight them any more. He became even more aggressive when he recalled the words Angelika had said to him on the rooftop, of her being tired of the constant war her wanting to end it – even if it meant giving in to the Djinn. This has enraged him enough to grab her by her weak throat and choke her until she was barely conscious any more. She had began to regain her consciousness in the car, her breath had wheezed slightly and head had spun enough for her to keep lying down on the seat.

"Sir... Sir!" the driver suddenly cried out. "Behind us!"

Raphael didn't want to look. If he didn't see it, maybe it wasn't happening?

Yet he still looked, and didn't like what he saw. Toshiro and Nathaniel, on foot, gaining. "Speed up, you fool!" he growled. "Don't let them catch us."

"How... how can they run this fast?" the driver had nearly shitted himself with fear. The old car refused to go any faster than it already did. When the image in the rear view mirror told its story of the Djinn drawing closer, Raphael felt obligated to calm the driver down with facts. "The bones of the Djinn are like rubber; they are nearly impossible to break," he said, his voice unusually calm and monotonic again. "That makes them exceptionally flexible, especially when running. Their stride can go up to 30 feet in full speed. Now drive!"

But it was all too late. A loud 'thud' on the roof of the car and claws that broke through it told more than enough. Though just as Toshiro was about to reach Angelika, the driver hit the brakes, sending him flying through the air, off the roof of the car and dozens of metres forward on the road, on his feet. Raphael tore Angelika out of the car, slipping only just out of Nathaniel's reach and disappeared into the maze of the alleyways. It was easily to follow the trail – there were only so many crossroads, and they only lead to dead-ends – until they arrived at a highway where a thick forest greeted them at the other side of it.

"No bleeding way..." Toshiro growled. "We lost him?"

"Unlikely... there must be a lead somewhere," Nathaniel sent his consciousness on the loose again, trying to catch up with Raphael quicker astrally. But there was nothing to be found. The faint trail that he left was lost in other trails and auras. There was no telling where he could have disappeared.

That is, until the moonlight gave away something shiny on the other side of the road, near the first trees of the forest. Toshiro picked it up, realizing it was the decorative hair pin that Angelika had been wearing. She must've dropped it, intentionally or accidentally. Joyous of his finding, Toshiro smirked at his father. "It pays not to rely only on magicks," he knew exactly how much the remark would annoy the elder Djinn. "Youth 1, the old ones 0."

"Very well," Nathaniel spat. "I suppose the youth does know why Raphael chose to run here, instead of the nearest place that still floods with Crusaders?"

Toshiro blinked.

"As I thought," a bittersweet chuckle escaped from Nathaniel's lips. "He definitely didn't choose this because of the nice view."

He walked past his son, heading straight in the forest: "This is haunt country. 1-1."

"Wait... haunts?" Toshiro easily caught Nathaniel now that he had stopped running. "How do you know so much about their locations?"

"Hmph... Usually I pay wraiths no mind, for only few will share their secrets with me," he explained, finding himself more and more annoyed by Toshiro's lack of concentration on the mission. Had he kept his mind on it from the very beginning, they most likely would have avoided this mess, but Nathaniel did blame himself as well – he was the one tasked with the job to instruct the young Djinn in the mission. And after getting cut by Raphael, chewed by rabid zombies and now having to enter wraith woods, getting beheaded for failing didn't seem like a bad ending any more. He would almost look forward to it, if he wasn't sure that should he fail, there wouldn't be much left to behead.

Most of the wraiths that inhabited the woods were not aggressive. Even though the presence of the Djinn and the archangel gave them less confidence to show up to see what was going on, a few dared to spook the immortals, with low success rate. The Undying wasn't afraid of the dead – as long as they were dead and not reanimated, and even then they were mostly a nuisance – and Raphael wasn't bothered, knowing the wraiths would concentrate gladly on Angelika instead of him. Angelika did jump at the eerie screams and evil laughters, but lacking the eyesight to actually see the wraiths allowed her to stay moderately calm. She now had her faith on the Djinn, and only on the Djinn, not in her previous religion that had betrayed her, stabbed her in the back and left her to suffer alone. But it was something she knew to be quiet about; should Raphael know of her thoughts, he wouldn't hesitate to kill her right on the spot.

And judging by the pace he kept up, the Djinn must've been close by.

Suddenly Raphael stopped, dropping Angelika on the ground from his shoulder. They were now located pretty much in the middle of the forest, on the wraiths' gathering spot, near a deep pond where, as rumours had it, many saddened people had ended their lives and became haunts of the forest. It didn't take too long before the two Djinn appeared into the edge of the opening, blood in their hands and rage in their eyes. Not even the wraiths that gathered around the opening to see the beginning of the end seemed to distract them with their hideous faces and maniacal laughs. They surrounded the immortals with their thick mist, anxious to see who will join them in the afterlife as another wraith.

Right before the eyes of the Djinn, Raphael pulled Angelika against himself, placing the edge of his grand sword on her neck. "One move," he warned. "And she will die."

"Not that pious any more, huh, Raphael?" The Undying replied, with certain amount of delight in his voice. "'You shall not murder' and all that. Your lord himself is the most ruthless murderer."

"How dare you!" Angelika felt Raphael's blade stick a tad tighter against her skin upon his rage.

"The ancient flood, Sodom and Gomorra, Egypt, the Zamzummites and the Horites... need I continue?" the young Djinn joined in. Even he had done his homework before entering the world of mortals, knowing he would face celestial resistance. He knew all the pain points he could strike. "And now this; an innocent girl. This is a new low, even for you."

"This witch is far from innocent," Raphael growled, now pointing the tip of his blade directly at the left side of her chest, where the hearts locate. "She has summoned you, demon, and enabled the entrance of another devil to this world! She has willingly allied herself with you; a sin, from which there is no atonement other than death."

The blade tightened. "After I have slain her, I will send you back to the hell you belong to, and if you live 'till doomsday, you shall burn a week longer than the world! I swear!"

"You'll do no such thing."

The voice surprised both the Djinn and Raphael. Angelika's voice was suddenly filled with confidence, all traces of stuttering and fear wiped away into nothingness. The voice hardly belonged to her, so different it was. Without batting an eye, Angelika raised her hands on Raphael's and forced the blade through her chest, deeper and deeper until it came out of Raphael's back.

Time seemed to stop; even the wraiths that had kept loud racket ever since the intruders stepped into their forest had now frozen in the air, not even one letting out a single noise. The shock was almost tangible, like a solid smack in the kisser. It left every immortal and every wraith present staring at the little, fragile mortal who had, against all odds, taken the situation into her own hands. Angelika's body bent lifelessly forward, staying up only because Raphael refused to fall over. Some blood burst out from his mouth, along with curses that the archangels – or any angels – weren't expected to even be aware of. Yet still he was able to grab Angelika hard by her shoulders, pushing her hard to dig the sword out of his body and finally hurling her onto the ground. But the force of his own push threw him off his balance; he staggered backwards, slowly but surely until he finally got to the edge of the pond and fell in with a splash, floating only a brief moment before sinking to the bottom of the pond, to accompany the numerous corpses that had taken the dive before him.

The young Djinn approached Angelika's body that was lying on the soft grass. Though the body looked lifeless, with the sword still attached to it, he was able to hear the rasping of her breath and the heartbeat that was gradually weakening. How the hell she could still be alive?

He knelt down next to her and grabbed the handle of the grand sword firmly. Without a warning, he pulled it out as fast as he could; Angelika twitched violently and let out a cry of agony that ended up in coughs when her blood began to fill her lungs. The Undying took the sword from his son and examined it with great interest – to have stolen a sword from an archangel was to have acquired one of the greatest melee weapons in the world. This would make a fine trophy. Too bad Angelika did the job for him.

Little did he knew he would get a second chance.


	18. Victims of Genocide

Wishmaster: Exodus

Wishmaster © Live Film and Mediaworks, Inc.

Wishmaster II: Evil Never Dies © Artisan International, Inc.

Story © Kogamitsu (that's me)

Victims of Genocide

The sound of raindrops hitting the windows seemed extraordinarily loud in the emptiness of Alexandra's apartment. It had started raining almost as soon as she had returned home. She hadn't faced any problems during her journey; the living dead had given her a scare, but The Undying had been right. They hadn't even looked at her when she had passed them, not even when she had to shove a few out of her way on her way out from the cramped, half-collapsed hotel hallways. She was able to only imagine the glory of the hotel before it got to the hands of the Crusaders.

She just stood there, in front of a window, watching the lightnings pierce the sky and listening to the rain. Many burnt cigarettes lay in her ashtray, most of them having burnt out on their own. She found it hard to concentrate on even smoking one cigarette from beginning to the end, but she was doing well at her current one, though she could almost hear the ghost of her little sister sighing; "If you're not enjoying it, put it out."

Looking back at her life, Alexandra felt that the time when she met The Undying for the first time was the happiest time in her life, as crazy as it had sounded. It had been the fight of her life – a fair fight between a mortal and a Djinn. She had to do tons of homework to even have an idea what was going on, and she had to give her all to remain still at the last, crucial moment – the moment of her last wish. The Undying had proven to be a good loser and apparently held no grudge against her. It had been a relief; upon seeing him, she had been afraid of a revenge.

Now, she was afraid of not seeing him ever again.

After half a pack of cigarettes lay burnt in the ashtray, Alexandra began to lose hope. Not even a large cup of tea got her nerves to calm down. The Djinn had be gone for hours. And Angelika... how long could she take this torture?How long she could take on the pushing and pulling from side to side before finally breaking? Alexandra had had hard time taking the roller coaster ride The Undying gave her; she didn't even want to imagine herself in Angelika's boots.

Boots? She had bare feet wasn't she? She must be cold if she returns.

No.

No!

WHEN she returns.

Alexandra gave herself a mental kick in the butt for allowing such a horrible thought cross her mind. They would come back – that lousy excuse of an archangel could never stop two hard-boiled Djinn. Never.

A cracking noise woke Alexandra from her thoughts. Someone was at the front door, picking the lock with great speed. Before she even managed to move, she heard the lock open voluntarily. Whoever was picking it knew exactly what they were doing. Instinctively Alexandra grabbed a heavy candlestick from her coffee table and hid behind a corner, hoping the darkness would cover her. She hadn't dared to switch the lights on in her apartment, fearing that the Crusaders might know of her home and alliance with the Djinn and eliminate her before the Djinn would return to her. After a moment, the front door creaked open and she heard steps approaching her general direction. Just as she figured the intruder would be passing the corner, she raised up the candlestick and brought it down with all her strength, accompanying it with a wild shriek. The candlestick never hit its target; a strong hand halted it mid-air and Alexandra bumped in a strong-built figure of unnatural strength and height.

"Easy there..." a familiar deep voice called out to her. "We've been beaten up enough for the night."

A relieved smile spread on Alexandra's lips, while a nervous laughter kept escaping her despite her resistance. She even sobbed once, but managed to hold back the happy tears – they had come back!

Only a few minutes later Alexandra had fetched all the first-aid supplies she could find from her apartment and brought them to the living room, where Angelika was lying on the couch and The Undying was attending to her wounds. He had only just cut the collar of her gown open, making sure nothing he saw would insult her privacy. The wound puzzled him; it would appear that the sword when straight through her heart, but she was still alive, weakening only gradually. His fingertips ran on her chest, right below the collar bones, when he suddenly froze his hand on a spot, his forehead wrinkling slightly with surprise. "Hmm... I see..." he muttered, more to himself than the others in the room.

The young Djinn had been keeping an eye on outside after he got sewn back together, but now he turned slightly, almost sensing the insight his father had just experienced. Alexandra, however, remained oblivious to the shared comprehension, and asked nervously what had he realized. The Undying didn't bother to reply, he merely grabbed Alexandra by her hand and laid in on Angelika's chest, just a bit to the right from the centre of it. At first she didn't understand what he meant, but when she felt the gentle throbbing of Angelika's heart, the match was lit and she gasped in awe – Angelika's heart was on the right side, not on the left. Raphael had been unaware of it, and when he placed the tip of his sword on the left side of her chest, she had reckoned that was the chance she had been waiting for; she knew she might survive the stab when it would miss her heart, and she could take down Raphael with her.

"_Situs inversus_," The Undying remarked, lighting a cigaretteand turning away from Angelika. In her state, the fumes of cigarettes might only worsen her condition but he would need to relax before beginning to heal her. Alexandra knew she had heard those words before, somewhere, in a document perhaps. "Situs inversus..." she repeated. "Wasn't it the condition on mirrored inner organs?"

"It was also one of the traits of witches in dark ages..." The Undying pushed a window open and exhaled the toxic fumes into the evening rain. "Those were bleak times, even for us. Many good Djinn were slaughtered – the very same condition gave them away."

He turned around to face the room, still holding his cigarette outside from the window. "Her last name... _Petrescu_, I believe... is of Romanian origin. She is undoubtedly a straight descendant of the few witches that survived the witch hunt."

"Explains the amount of astral energy that flows in her," the young Djinn remarked. Alexandra felt rather outside the conversation; she had only little idea of what the two Djinn were on about, but when they began talking about astral energies and 'subdued powers' that 'might still be recovered with time and training', she lost the track. Their mouths moved and their voices carried all the way to her, but poor-Alex didn't understand one bit. She was still puzzled and tried to work out what she had heard when The Undying tossed the burnt cigarette on the ashtray and returned bad to Angelika.

"You think you can heal her?" the young Djinn sounded rather worried. He was sitting at the outer edge of the windowsill of an open window, blocking the rain with his large frame. The wounds in his body felt like they had been on fire, and the cold rain soothed the pain just enough, though the stains on the bandages still proved the wounds were bleeding. The Undying took a deep breath. "With her help, yes," he replied, placing his hands over Angelika's chest and rolling his eyes into blind, white ovoids to enhance his concentration. Though his own powers were still sealed by the unfulfilled prophecy, he had learnt other techniques during his long lifetime from ancient artefacts and books that included the lifelong secrets of various demons and spirits. He had mastered skills from blood magicks and domination to the sickening methods of necromancy that apparently were also favoured by Raphael as well. Healing without his natural powers was not impossible, but power-consuming and slightly hazardous in his current condition.

Alexandra looked up to the young Djinn. "With her help?" she whispered, just loud enough for him to hear. She didn't want to disturb The Undying with her questions, therefore she pointed it to the younger one who wasn't wrecking his brains in trying to mend broken flesh. The young Djinn pulled his head from outside back indoors and leant slightly forwards. A few audible cracks was heard as a couple vertebrae re-located themselves along his spine back to their original locations. "He would not be able to help her if it was not for her bloodline," he replied, as quietly as Alexandra. "He cannot heal her himself, but if he can awake her sleeping powers just enough for them to start mending her flesh..."

"Shut up, both of you," The Undying growled, blood drops beginning to leak from his eyes. All his strength flowed through his body, burning their way through and even out from his veins, but he refused to give in to the burning torment. His hands began to shake slightly as the exertion began to burden him too much, yet just as the stress was robbing him of his consciousness, he felt the sleeping powers finally nudge awake and respond to the presence of the immortals. The Undying sighed in relief and collapsed on his knees. Alexandra was quick to support him from falling on the ground, though she had to pay extra attention not to cut herself in the sharp thorns in his arms, shoulders and back. With the help of the young Djinn she helped him back on his feet and onto her arm chair. His breath heaved heavily, drops of sweat running down the thick, grey skin. The young Djinn watched in awe – he had never been aware of how much the Djinn can stretch their limits to achieve goals that many immortals deemed impossible. The strength of his father took him aback once again, and gave him a slight feeling of jealousy. He knew he could never develop his magical skills as high as his father's; the years he had spent amongst the humans and their culture had weakened his astral skills eminently, and he found very little comfort in knowing that he exceeded every Djinn when it came to physical skills. What good would it be to know where the critical spots of enemies locate, when you can't get six feet closer to them before their astral punch would throw you to the next county?

After catching his breath, The Undying reopened his eyes and looked at the sleeping Angelika. The newly awakened powers would eat away her energy for a while as they began gaining back their former strength, but apart from fatigue, she would be fine in a few days. The witches – pardon, sorceresses – were extraordinary species, and when this turmoil would be over, he would get a perfect chance to study one and try and unveil their secrets, in hope of learning more himself when teaching her how to handle the new talent of hers.

"She will be all right," he said, his head drooping tiredly. "She will need just time, and sleep. Alexandra, do you have a place where she could rest?"

"Yes... she can sleep in my bed," Alexandra replied. She knew for sure she couldn't catch an eyeful of sleep tonight, she might as well give it to Angelika.

"Son..."

The young Djinn nodded – the fatherly tone in The Undying's voice had never felt as reassuring and warm. The time drew near, and he should be by Angelika's side when she wakes up if he was ever to fulfil the prophecy. Carefully he picked up the sleeping beauty from the sofa and disappeared into the bedroom. The Undying chuckled, silently content with how things had turned out while Alexandra was still wrecking her brain to comprehend what she had just heard and seen. The rain was still beating the windows with notable force, washing the streets where the undead had collapsed upon the disappearance of their summoner, waiting for the coroner to finally pick them up and deliver them to their final resting places. Oddly enough, the random passer-bys paid very little attention to the beaten up corpses, perhaps figuring some drunkards had taken an early start and all passed out in a mass fight. Close, but no cigar.

Only a few moments later there were two cups of steaming hot tea on the lounge coffee table, Alexandra sitting in the middle of the sofa, nervously twisting her fingers in fear of the peacefulness of the situation breaking down in further assaults from the undead, or worse – Raphael himself. She wasn't assured as long as his dead body wouldn't be dragged out from the pond and confirmed dead. Nathaniel wasn't too bothered. He had shaken off his unnerving form to save the general good humour and was concentrated on cracking the joints of his fingers back to their right places. During the chase he had failed to notice that the jump out from the window and grabbing the drainpipe with only one hand had dislocated some of his fingers, and the adrenaline in his blood had made sure he could feel the pain only much, much later.

"So..." Alexandra bit her lip. She hated breaking the silences. "What's her story?"

"Hmm?" Nathaniel woke up from his thoughts.

"Angelika. What's her story?"

Nathaniel sank slightly deeper into the arm chair. "No one can say for sure. But I can guess..."

--

_Precisely 18 years ago._

_The night was cold and windy, the raindrops felt like whip strikes on the skin. It was hard to keep eyes open, let alone look forward while running. A young Romanian woman ran barefoot in the alleyways, decorative ankle chain appearing once in a while from under the hem of her skirt. She kept her newborn baby girl as close to herself as possible to shield her from the beating rain. Her chasers drew closer every second; she had attracted the Crusaders' attention by fortune-telling people from Tarot cards, and doing it well. Her mirrored inner organs had confirmed their suspicions, and they had declared a blood hunt on the woman, for practising witchcraft. But the truth was, they wanted her slaughtered, so they could rid the world of all the competition the celestial entities had. Witches had been healing people and blessing farms before Christianity spread throughout the countries, undermining the angels and their god's might. All they had done was that they had helped the people living near them with talents and skills, then suddenly in come people who claim to bring in the only, righteous truth, and decided they were allying with evil._

_And now the witches were rare. The woman was running for her and her child's life, only ending up in a dead-end, right near a Christian orphanage. Seeing there were no other solutions, she quickly opened the lid of a nearby dumpster, and carefully placed her baby inside, wishing someone would find her and take her to safety. The Crusaders came and went, taking the woman with them and executing her the very same night. The baby was found in the dumpster the next day, taken to the orphanage, and – ironically – raised in strict Christian laws. As time had passed, the other children sensed something strange in the newcomer and left her outside, picking and bullying this stranger until one day, the astral energy awoke inside of her did her bidding, scaring the bullies away from her. In Christian society, this proof of witchcraft resulted in severe punishment, and even further force-feeding of Christian laws and morals. The girl obediently followed the teachings and beliefs she was drowned in from the day she was found, thus weakening her natural strengths and growing up weak and defenceless, which lead only into more torment and suffering._

--

Nathaniel downed the rest of his tea and laid the cup carefully back on the table. "But now her faith has crumbled, making more way," he reckoned, his sight still set firmly outside into the rain. "That explains the sudden burst of confidence – she must have felt it herself, the vast source of energy she hasn't used before."

Alexandra was beginning to understand. That's what it had always been about, wasn't it? 'Ethnic cleaning' – anyone who has read any religious stories could recall reading at least of one genocide that the Christians had committed in the name of their god. Wiping out rivalry. It was all so regular guests in the news that she admitted she had stopped thinking about it. Heretics, witches, pagans... even the Djinn were victims of genocide.

The world was truly a rotten place.

"What about in your kingdom?" Alexandra asked when Nathaniel stood up from the chair, poked a window open and lit a cigarette. He took two long inhales from it before answering: "That is up to the boy."

That answer wasn't good enough for her. "But... can't you do anything? I'm sure he would listen if you..."

Nathaniel's low, amused laughter stopped her in the middle of her sentence. "No, Alexandra," he replied. "I desire not such lowly heights. My interests consist only of the ancient secrets and looking after my kind."

"In that order?"

"Hah-hah-hah... you will do well in our kingdom, that I can see already."


	19. Prophecy Fulfilled

Wishmaster: Exodus

Wishmaster © Live Film and Mediaworks, Inc.

Wishmaster II: Evil Never Dies © Artisan International, Inc.

Story © Kogamitsu (that's me)

/ Syrup warning, folks, if you, like I, are allergic to cheesiness /

Prophecy Fulfilled

The young Djinn allowed his body to collapse on a chair in Alexandra's bedroom. Despite the heavy load and a suspicious creak, the chair held his weight and supported him when his muscles gave up in exhaustion. This night had demanded him everything he had to give, and even more. He had pushed himself to his limits and over, and he felt it with his every breath. He was tired and dirty, covered in sweat, bruises and dried blood of both his and humans', but it was finally over. He had survived. They all had.

It was finally over.

Well, almost, he remained honest to himself. He still had the last wish to fulfill. But how he could even begin to sort out this mess? Poor Angelika hadn't the slightest clue what her last wish had been, and there was no way to break it to her without freaking her out for good. "Yup, sorry to say it lassie, but you wished to love my true self. Now give us a kiss 'n cuddle." No way.

Love was not a stranger to the Djinn, but their love often picked other targets than their kind. The Undying, for instance, had a passionate love towards knowledge and science, uncovering all the secrets in the universe and learning old, mystic arts that have been long forgotten. Oh, how easy the life must've been for him, the young Djinn growled inside – though admitted that his own existence did prove him wrong. And what was it with that mortal woman, Alexandra? The Undying treated her nearly like an equal, though he usually looked down on the pathetic mortals. Either he had lost his mind or there was a side to him that not even the young Djinn was aware of. But at any rate, it was none of his concern – all he was to do any more was to fulfil the prophecy and lick his wounds. Not necessarily in that order.

A silent moan woke the young Djinn from his thoughts. He watched Angelika sit up slowly, the ripped collar of her gown nearly exposing the left half of her chest. There was nothing he wouldn't have given to have the energy to drag himself over to her, but as hard as he tried, he couldn't get his legs to lift him off the chair and carry him those petty few feet. Helplessly he observed Angelika moving her hands left and right, trying to figure out where had she ended up this time. He chuckled slightly as she accidentally switched the radio of Alexandra's alarm clock on, and in panic, she managed to switch it off only a few seconds later. It was as if he could've seen "Oops!" written in a thought bubble above her head.

But now it was his turn, to make his move. Despite the strong objections his body made, he stood up and approached her, not allowing his wobbly legs to give up now. Just before he sat down next to her, he whispered her name into the air and reached out for her, the tips of his claws gently running down her cheek and onto her shoulder. The feeling gave her shivers, but she couldn't say she hadn't dreamt of being touched like that. She enjoyed the feeling of a warm, strong hand on her shoulder, even if it was that of demon's. She would've wanted to reply to his call, but once again she found herself without a name to speak out – she had been saved by him for dozens of times, and she didn't even know his real name. Instead of speaking, she reached out her hand towards him, quickly finding his chest and what felt a bit like a collar bone. She thought she had reached for his face – he was way bigger than she had imagined. His skin felt rough and thick, and slightly wet, as if he had just come out from rain. Reaching out a bit further, she came across his neck, and following it up, she finally reached his face that felt softer and less thick than the rest of his body.

A feeling of relief took over her mind, sending a silent sigh through her lips. She had survived, her suspicions of her own self had been true. The desperate try had succeeded; she was alive... and Raphael wasn't. At least, he wasn't bothering her any more. Now she could finally relax for a moment, even if for just a little while, to gather strength. She knew it wasn't over yet – there was one, last business between her and the young Djinn, but if only she had a clue of what she would be expected to do, it would've been easier for her to prepare for any eventualities.

Angelika took a few deep breaths before attempting to speak. She felt rather breathless just while thinking about all the torment she had just survived, with help from beings she would've deemed into deepest hell only a few days ago and a woman she would've labelled a heathen. So narrow had her vision of the world been; she actually needed to lose her eyesight to begin seeing the world as it truly is.

"It's over… it's finally over…"

Angelika's voice gave out the feeling of relief in her, it seemed as if all the worries in her world had just hit the rock bottom of the lake alongside Raphael, but as much as it burnt his tongue to remind her, the young Djinn gathered himself together one, last time and said:

"No, Angel… not yet. _We_ have unfinished business."

Even if he had tried harder, he couldn't have hidden the minor malevolence in his tone, but the truth was that he was getting sick of his situation, sick of waiting… and this night had worn his patience out completely. No more fights, no more chases – no more excuses; the prophecy will be fulfilled, **tonight!** Before dawn, he will reign this earth and nothing, absolutely nothing would stop him now. Well, perhaps that was a bit early statement, the young Djinn thought to himself. The third wish is on the edge of getting granted, but should he mess this up now... He didn't even want to think about it. This should be taken care of carefully, or he would end up in the epic fail list.

Luckily Angelika didn't seem too startled by the sudden change in the tone. Her right eyebrow rose slightly, eyes still unfocused but giving away her confusion. "W-what do you mean?" she breathed out, hardly loud enough to be heard but notably less scared than previously. A notable tension grew in the air, and if Angelika had had any primal instincts to follow, she would've ran as fast and as far as she could, ignoring the minor nuisance that her blindness would've been in such case. But she didn't. She was tired of running, and knew there wouldn't be a place in the world where the young Djinn couldn't find her. And the young Djinn knew it.

"Your third wish, Angel," he did everything to give his growling voice even a touch of softness. "It must be granted."

Angelika shook her head. "B-but I... I n-never... never made a t-third wish, d-did I?"

That was the cue the young Djinn had waited in terror. But there it was, loud and clear. Cues bring actors from behind the curtain, start dramatic music on spot, trigger drum fills in stand-up comedies... and makes the Djinn spring into action. There would be no point in delaying it anymore, it had to be over and done with, even though there would be no telling how she will react to it. Taking a deep, mental breath the young Djinn turned to her, his lips almost brushing the tip of her left ear he whispered in her own voice: "I...wish I could love the real you..."

Just as he had frozen upon hearing those words the first time, so did Angelika. Her gasp seemed to come all the way from her heart, as if someone had just plunged a mental spear into her back and out of her chest. At first she couldn't even comprehend what she had just heard, the shock it caused blurred her thinking until such simple sentence finally broke through into her cognition; she had wished to love him as he truly is.

But... why? How?

Eventually she came to conclusion it might not sound as far-off as she first thought – think about it; a bullied girl such as herself is grateful of any positive attention she gets from her peers, especially from one such as handsome as Toshiro had been. He had protected her from those who sought to harm her, saving her life on many occasions. What reason had she **not** to make such a wish? Toshiro had seemed to be everything she was looking for.

Emphasis on the word 'seemed', as now Angelika felt the controversy in her grow greater than ever before. Now she was aware of his true nature; he wasn't even a human, let alone a being that might be a close thing to it. He was a demon, a Djinn, with the sole purpose of forcing the humans aside and ruling in their stead. Who knows what the race of the Djinn would bring with them. How could Angelika allow that to happen? How could she not allow that to happen, after everything he had done for her?

Angelika pressed her palms against the sides of her aching head, gritting her teeth not to start crying again. If she trusted this, this... Djinn... now, and have the third wish granted, then what? Would he just abandon her, or would he actually respond to her feelings? Then again, what reason would he have to keep her? As the king of the whole, bloody universe, he should be able to pick any woman he would want, no questions asked. Surely he would not settle for a miserable creature like her... would he?

The young Djinn tugged gently Angelika's hands off her head and took them in his own hands that were nearly twice the size of hers. He allowed his claws to run smoothly on her skin before resting his hands on her thighs, still holding her hands in his. "Angel..." he whispered. "Even though I can wear different forms and change my appearance, I cannot change what I truly am. Not once have I claimed to be someone I'm not – what you thought of Toshiro, you thought of me."

Angelika's heart pounded like a maniac. For a moment she was afraid that it might split, only to fear a second later that it might not. She felt the Djinn pull her closer, cradling her in his strong arms and resting his head gently over hers. The faint sound of his pounding heart was audible, even if it pounded much less in a minute than hers. "Angel... if you..." the young Djinn stopped momentarily, almost as if he had to prevent his voice from breaking in mid-sentence. "If you could find even tiny bit of love in your heart for this ugly creature, you would release us all from our eternal slavery."

His sharp claws ran smoothly through her hair, his warm breath still caressing her cheek. She had never even imagined such a feeling, let alone thought of experiencing it herself. To be held in such strong arms, be cradled in such security... but how long would it last? Let's say she would love him, then what? Mission complete, yeah, great, congrats, he's the master of the universe, thanks a bunch and have a good rest of your life. The following two seconds. Angelika wouldn't have pried herself off the young Djinn's grasp hadn't these thoughts kept haunting her, but before she could slip away too far, he grabbed her by her shoulders to keep her still. Either he could sense what was going through her mind or he had expected it. "I cannot imagine what might run through your mind now," he kept his tone as low and soft as he could. "After what you've been through, I can't blame you for your distrust on others. It must burn you, Angel, to have been abandoned so many times in your life."

Those words hit Angelika like strikes of a whip. All the emotions that she had denied or sealed inside her began to break through their barriers, pressurising her chest, almost choking her on the spot. All her life she had been alone and disdained, without friends to support her or family to depend upon. The kind of a nightmare only few have experienced, fewer have survived and only some might imagine. At first Angelika had supposed it was her god's punishment for something she had done, but now the fog had began to lift up from her eyes and she gradually understood the truth; it was not some celestial power that had kept her lonely and isolated, it was the human nature that automatically seeks the odd one out to destroy. It was the cruelty of her peers, nothing more, nothing less. Cruelty of the humankind. It made the Djinn look like saints.

The young Djinn dried the tears on her face; his rough skin felt soothing on her soft cheek. "You are not alone any more, Angel," he said. "You will never be alone again, if you don't want to. You will never be abandoned again."

Oh, how sweet those words sounded! Angelika felt as if she was on the edge of waking up from a lifelong nightmare into a brand new morning, even if she remained unsure what it will bring along. Could the morning prove to be worse than the night? Worse than the state of this earth and how the humans treat each other? As much as Angelika hated to admit it to herself, she found it unlikely. No biblical apocalypse is needed to wipe out the humanity, it's doing it pretty well all by itself.

But would the Djinn be any different? Would they be righteous and fair rulers? That Angelika couldn't answer. She couldn't even have an educated guess.

What would happen next was entirely up to Angelika, and she knew it. But if it all came down to how she felt, what would it matter on which side her head would be, if her heart would choose another side? Mysticism wouldn't definitely do wish faked attachment and would most likely discover genuine feelings, no matter how well she would hide them. If she was in love, she was in love – no reason could change that fact. Trouble was, Angelika wasn't sure; she had never experienced falling in love, she wasn't aware how she would recognize such feeling. She had heard you couldn't tell you're in love, you would just know it.

Her hand reached for his that still laid on her cheek. She felt his claws brush her face and decorative thorns on the back of his hand. His skin felt thick and extraordinarily warm, very comfortable even. The young Djinn lifted her slightly up, pulling her on his lap and enclosing her in an embrace once more. This time Angelika stayed. Her conclusion was now clear; she couldn't make her will talk her heart over, even if she had wanted to. Despite what other might have thought, the young Djinn had her convinced. At least things couldn't get much worse.

The change in the air was almost tangible, and it favoured the young Djinn. As if there had been a newly lit spark of hope somewhere inside him, telling him that against all odds he had succeeded, he had finally pulled through what his kind had been trying to do for many millennia. Was it really happening? Is it finally over?

The young Djinn's hand caressed Angelika's cheek gently as he lifted her head slightly, getting a better view into her blinded eyes. He brought his face close to hers, close enough to feel her breath but far enough to see her. Never ever he would've though he would meet a human like her, let alone that her kind still existed. The time was here, and it couldn't be more perfect. His lips brushed slightly against hers before pulled her head closer, into a tender kiss – first ever that Angelika had received. She twitched slightly, as if the thousand butterflies in her stomach had suddenly began to fly at the same time, but she didn't back away. She didn't want to. There was no need to. Whatever happens, happens.

That instant the young Djinn felt as if the astral chains that had followed him all this time had been destroyed, vanished into thin air and completely ceased to exist. It was the feeling of freedom that every one of his kind had dreamt of, and now it was finally within their all reach. The third wish had been granted – now he could bring forth all of his kind, now he was the master of this universe, and nothing could stop him any more. His powers were no longer sealed, he could act on his own will any time he wanted.

But as their lips parted, something else caught the young Djinn's attention; the feeling he had felt towards his waker had not vanished. It was still there, as strong and true as ever. To his own surprise, he couldn't force himself to walk out the door and finish his mission. He didn't want to leave her there just like that. Instead he carefully helped her to lie down again, pulled the blanket over her and lay down next to her. What's the hurry, anyway? There'll be a whole lot of work to do to make this earth completely habitable for the Djinn, even more when they'd start restoring the planet after the havoc the humankind had wreaked on it.

Even The Undying knew that their work had just began. There'd still be many sleepless days and nights for the Djinn before their task would be complete. The thoughts of the future occupied his mind as he continued observing the slowly waking Newcastle and the mist the river Tyne spread gradually all over the centre. He, too, had felt the change in the air, though its grasp couldn't reach him yet. He turned to look at Alexandra, who had fallen asleep on the sofa, resting more or less peacefully in the wake of the apocalypse.

But The Undying also sensed the distress of the rest of the Djinn, who eagerly awaited for their freedom. He thought of trying to send them a signal through the barriers, to ease their suffering, but reckoned the tides of the barrier were too strong for now for any signal to reach them.

"Patience, my friends..." he muttered into the air. "Patience..."


	20. New Era has Begun

Wishmaster: Exodus

Wishmaster © Live Film and Mediaworks, Inc.

Wishmaster II: Evil Never Dies © Artisan International, Inc.

Story © Kogamitsu (that's me)

New Era has Begun

Before the sun had properly risen, Toshiro Takeda lit up a cigarette before heading out to the centre of Newcastle from Alexandra's cosy apartment. His heart raced fast; he felt like an actor, just moments before stepping on the stage in a grand première. The great show was beginning alright, and he was the star of it all. This is what he had trained for, this is what he came to achieve, but it didn't stop him from getting slightly nervous. He would've wanted to consult his father about it all before the main moment, but he had disappeared during the early morning. He did that a lot, though. Sometimes Toshiro thought Nathaniel was more of a ninja than he was himself.

The streets were relatively empty, a spooky atmosphere seemed to repel every living being away. Only a few corpses were still lying around in the morning mist, proving the last night's battle had been real, even though it felt like a nightmare that Toshiro had awaken from. He headed on top of a hill that provided a beautiful view to the gradually waking-up Newcastle. Kids walking nicely on the pavement, heading for school with heavy bags on their backs, their busy parents driving to their offices, to earn currency to uphold their families, locking their precious homes behind their front doors, hoping it would be enough to protect their safe havens from intruders, though more often than it should happen, they would find their doors pried open and their safe havens no longer felt so safe.

It's all gone wrong… Toshiro thought to himself. Innocent shouldn't be afraid. Why, in this world, the knaves walk freely, doing as they please when the innocent have to step lightly and ever fear for misfortune? The knaves must have taken charge of the earth, allowing their corruption to themselves, watching their slaves from their cosy penthouses that have been built on the innocents' cost. How can these parasites imagine this world would survive by their rules? Just thinking about the state of the earth as it was now drove anger in Toshiro's veins. It would all change, as he would step in power. Those with heavy sins in their hearts would be condemned, driven out from this world into the deepest hell where they belong. The parasites would be put back to work, as far away from their cosy spaces as possible.

The young Djinn laid one, last look on the centre, before lifting up his monstrous arms, his eyes flaring red as he prepared to destroy the barriers that held his kind in their prison. The world stopped upon feeling the tension; the birds stopped singing and every animal laid down on the ground or returned hastily in their hideouts. Trees nearly keeled over by the force of the astral wind, the blue sky shattered into pieces like glass, giving way to its blood-red replica that startled the witnesses of the apocalypse. The earth trembled and mountains split to pieces while new ones rose up from the ground. The rising sun burnt pitch-black, colouring the clouds with its hues. Thousands and thousands of clawed hands broke out from the flaming soil, the race of the Djinn breaking free from their prison, gasping air and releasing roars of freedom, creating a macabre choir of howls that carried out all around the earth, freezing every mortal in terror and fear.

The unholy legion gathered around their new king, bowing slightly and turning to look at their new dimension. The young Djinn looked at it all, and saw it was good – at least, a good start. "My friends..." he growled softly at his people. "Let us begin_._"

Alexandra was in for the greatest scare of her life when she witnessed the radical changes in the world that took place so suddenly, and were finished before she had comprehended it all. Before she had recovered from her shock, five armoured demons broke in from her door and pulled her out from her apartment, into a group of other humans that walked in relatively fast speed towards an unknown destination. That, or getting a spear shoved up their arses.

Even Angelika woke up from her dream when she heard the door fall off its frames, and before she knew it, she felt a rough hand pulling her out the bed by her arm, and dragging her along out from the block of flats, before long, head-first into a lamp post that was still standing from the storm. The impact threw her down on her knees, she moaned the pain on her face and pressed her only free hand on her cheek. She heard slightly growling noises, something she thought she recognized as speech, but she couldn't understand any of it. She just felt another yank on her arm, as she was pulled forward and led forward, all the way until there was a heavy door opened in front of her and she was violently shoved in. "So you're the waker, eh?" a harsh voice called out behind her, in rather broken English. "Thanks a lot for letting us out, weakling!"

It took Angelika a while to find her feet again. She could hear other people in this small chamber-like room, that was apparently built inside a mountain cave of sorts. Rasping breaths and restless moving around gave away how full-packed the chamber was... but Angelika didn't need the awkward silence to tell if everyone was staring at her. Did that... that... person really have to go shout it out loud that she was responsible for this?

That was all the outraged humans in the jail chamber needed. Angelika had barely time to get back on her feet when she felt being pulled further into the chamber, squeezed against a corner and angry breaths of people burning her face. She trembled, with every inch of her being she shook in fear, knowing full well what would follow. She had been squeezed against a wall enough times to predict what was going to happen next. Instinctively she squeezed her blind eyes closed before the first slam connected with her face. She tried to shield her her with her arms and pull her legs to guard her stomach from the punches and kicks that kept raining on her, but all her efforts were ultimately in vain. It all seemed to last forever, until she could no longer feel anything. Every sense she had left blurred out, she was no longer conscious when two soldier Djinn stepped inside the chamber and threw everyone on the walls without lifting a finger. The other one of them carried Angelika out from the chamber, and when the sturdy door finally closed again, the astral hold lifted from the people and they collapsed on the floor, now one less among them.

The Council had already gathered at the palace that had appeared in this world, their eldest congratulating the young Djinn on his achievement, albeit his unconventional guidance and methods. Their smooching was rather transparent; the young Djinn knew that everyone wanted to get on the new ruler's good side for future purposes. Self-preservation was, in any rate, part of their nature as well. It also triggered some competition, as the post of the king's advisor was still open, and the eldest of the Council was quick to remind him of it. "Indeed, yes, sometimes the king is no wiser than his advisor, young regent," he declared. "I trust you are already aware of such things."

"I am," the young Djinn replied, not giving much effort to hide his frustration. "Therefore I have decided to call upon my own father, The Undying – he guided me through the mess that was the mortal earth, it should be of no trouble for him to keep guiding me, if needbe."

The eldest grunted, his sharp teeth revealed by the annoyed twitching of his lips. "Surely you jest, your majesty..." he growled. "The Undying has not shown any interest in the matters of our kind for centuries; he was forced to assist you in your task to begin with. And even if he were to accept this position, he doesn't seem to be present to do so. Please, appoint a new advisor."

At that moment the doors of the palace opened and closed, and from outside, The Undying stepped in with three old scrolls tucked neatly under his cape. A sarcastic smile spread on the young Djinn's lips, as he repeated he will assign his father as his advisor – and that's all there is to it. The elder laughed, turning to look at The Undying. "The son seems not to let go of his paternal guide, I see," it would be the last time the young Djinn would accept such tone in his voice. "The loss of his mother indeed has let its scars on our new ruler. Pray, o' wise Undying, what would you say of a king that still relied on his father?"

"Such rulers tend to build kingdoms that stand the test of time, Elder."

The elder had not expected The Undying to give such a statement. Ignoring his confusion, The Undying proceeded onwards, all the way until he stood at the right side of his son's. "And I accept this appointment," he said. "Under one condition."

"And that is?" the young Djinn asked, without sifting his eyes to look at his father.

"Whatever you promised Angel, that you will keep."

They exchanged looks, each estimating another. The young Djinn gave a firm nod at his father; "It is agreed, then."

He turned to two pairs of guards that were standing fully armed at the doors. "The two of you," he said, referring to the two first ones. "Go, and bring me my waker. And you..."

The two other guards paid attention.

"Bring us a woman by the name of Alexandra Amberson. Bend a hair on her head, and I will cover my throne with your hides."

As the guards had left, the fresh king turned at his even fresher advisor. "Whatever you planned on promising her, -" he said, just loud enough for him to hear. "That you will keep as well."

The Undying chuckled. His son had learnt to read him like an open book.

But as Angelika was carried in, every drop of amusement disappeared into thin air. She was hardly breathing, a rib was sticking out from her side and her face was covered in blood and tears. "Thousand and one apologies, your majesty..." the guard carrying this fragile being in his arms said, with sincerity in his voice. "We arrived too late."

The young Djinn shook his head slightly in disbelief and shock – even in times like this, the humans were only looking for someone to blame. Someone to accuse of everything that has happened and take it all out on them. They were, indeed, the most cruel and inhumane of species, with only few exceptions in the course of the history. When the young Djinn had finally recovered from the state of minor shock, he sighed aloud. "Place her on the altar there," he pointed at a massive stone altar with a few cushions laid on it. "And summon the healer."

Even after centuries without a leader, the Djinn had not forgotten how to run a kingdom. When the king summoned someone, they had sparsely a few minutes to comply and appear where they were needed. The healer was no exception; in next to no time the knocking of her high heels were audible from the corridor that led to the main hall of the palace. A leather bag of different herbs and assorted natural bandages kept hopping gently on her hip at the pace of her steps. She was one of the few of her kind that had survived in good enough shape to begin carrying out their tasks at once. But like everyone else, she was rather anorectic after the time spent in the void.

The healer remained silent while she examined Angelika's beaten-up body, seeing if there was anything to be done. Her concentration didn't break, not even when the doors flew open again and the last two guards came in, more or less dragging Alexandra with them. Upon seeing the Undying, she broke free from the guards' grasps and ran to him, beating him in the chest in her fear and frustration. The guards were ready to throw her on the walls for that, but The Undying signed them to stay back. This was his concern, not theirs. "You son of a bitch!" Alexandra cried out, half yelling and half crying. "You did it! You actually did it, you bastard! You... you... FIEND!"

Now even the healer stole a fleeting glance at the silly human. Her ridiculous pounding couldn't hurt the Djinn even if she tried, and she seemed to know it, yet she still kept on doing so. Eventually she did stop; she just leaned on him, trying to hold back her tears and sobbing, failing miserably. The Undying pulled her just a bit closer, just enough to call it an embrace. "I told you only the truth," his voice was soft, almost purring. Alexandra forced herself to calm down, only finding herself squeezing her arms around his waist. Damn, she was scared – she had had the fright of her life in the dawn, and she still hadn't recovered of all the shock that had struck her at once. She wondered how would Angelika...

Alexandra froze that instant. Angelika!

Her eyes found the bloody mess on the altar that she recognized as Angelika. She felt her heart skip a beat and new tears falling down her cheeks, and with very wobbly voice she managed to whisper: "W-what happened?"

Lifting her head up to look The Undying into his eyes, Alexandra still didn't let go of her grasp around him. There was a shocking amount of sadness in those blood-red eyes, more than she could've imagined, but his voice was calm and still as ever. "Humans assaulted her," was all he said. The pressing silence that followed seemed to last a small eternity, but was finally broken by the healer lifting up her eyes from her subject. But unfortunately, only to slowly shake her head. "There is not much I can do for her, majesty..." she finally spoke. "Time will tell."

Alexandra turned nervously. "What does she mean?" she whispered. "Couldn't she use her powers or something to help Angelika?"

"We are not fools, Alexandra," The Undying replied just as quietly. "We do not compete with Nature. That fight we would lose – just as you did."

The young Djinn stepped forward to the altar. "Tell me," he said. "Will she survive?"

Gracelessly the healer pulled Angelika's skin over the out-sticking rib to cover it, getting her point across. "I will not guarantee that, my lord," she said. "Even if she would, she wouldn't have much of a life to look forward to."

"Explain, healer."

The healer sighed. "She has received a lot of head trauma. I might have been able to heal her burnt eyes, but it wouldn't give her back her sight any more. Nearly all of her brain area that has something to do with sense of vision has been damaged. Additionally, her hip bone and lower end of her spine have been severely injured; it will take her ages to get back on her feet. And even when she finally does so, she will never walk properly again."

She ended her sad report, leaning on the side of the altar. "The best option for her is just to rest, let her own body heal itself if it can be healed. I can provide her with painkillers once she regains consciousness."

The young Djinn never took his eyes off Angelika. He couldn't understand how someone could treat their peer like this, how the humans were able to injure and slaughter each other without a second thought. His claws ran smoothly through Angelika's bloodstained hair, his thoughts lost somewhere, where unpleasantness reigned with harsh hand. The healer kept staring at her lord for a moment, wondering why he was so upset about his waker's likely death. She was just a human, wasn't she? Tons of human women about now, in a lot more better shape than this individual, if he so wanted a personal female slave. On the other hand, it was none of her job to question her lord's wants, she could only try and keep him content.

Clearing her throat slightly, the healer said: "Her demise is not sealed yet, majesty. With your Lordship's permission, I will gather a few servants and see that this human will be comfortable and healing well."

"Permission granted," the young Djinn replied. The healer bowed slightly and lifted Angelika up from the altar. Alexandra found it astonishing how massive the female Djinn, the _Djinnyah_, were in comparison to humans, even relatively speaking. The healer was muscular, at least seven feet tall even without her high heels. Though the Djinnyah were smaller than their male peers, they certainly weren't to be messed around with.

The two soldiers that had escorted Alexandra into the main hall escorted her later on into – what gave her serious goosebumps – a slaves' chamber. Mental images of medieval roach-ridden cells with only broken mattresses here and there sprang immediately to her mind, but she was in for a rather pleasant surprise when they had finally arrived there. First off, the male soldiers weren't allowed inside the room, because it was the female slaves' chamber. Two female soldiers let her in into a large, surprisingly warm chamber that was lit with candles and a few torches, and with shallow futon-like beds with cushions, one for each slave. They were told to wash up while their new clothes would be brought to them into the chamber. Their washing room wasn't horrible either; it was a rather large pool of warm water, like a giant bath tub where seven slaves fit in nicely, even ten if they made some room. Even during that time no male beings were allowed in – male servants brought whatever they had to the female guards at the door, who then brought it inside.

Even the slaves are respected here, Alexandra thought while examining the piece of clothing she found on the mattress that was assigned to her. It was a natural white gown, made of some very smooth material... not exactly silk, but not far from it. Every slave got exactly the same outfit, but they were given bracers with different symbols on them. Alexandra's bracer had a strange, ebony symbol on a blood-red, flat crystal, and the Djinnyah who attached it to her wrist sealed it with extra care. "What is this?" Alexandra asked.

"This tells whom you belong to," the Djinnyah replied. "You're in luck. Lord Undying rarely bothers anyone, at any rate. I don't understand why he would get a slave... Well, it is not my headache."

Without saying another word, the Djinnyah left to attach the rest of the bracers to the slaves. Alexandra wasn't sure what to think about this all... perhaps it was a good time to think things through, to form her own opinions before doing something, if anything.


End file.
